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hanilessa · 1 year

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before reading please pay attention to the series masterlist, to make sure you have read the previous chapters!

your likes, reblogs and replies are greatly appreciated! i hope you like it, enjoy reading!

HALF AN HOUR FOR LOVE — Childe x F!Reader Chapter 7. From his side, from your side

Childe was irritated. The red light of the traffic light flickered unpleasantly, annoying Tartaglia even more. Irritation filled every part of his body, preventing him from thinking rationally. He nervously tapped with one hand on the leather steering wheel, and in the other hand he held the third cigarette.

Usually a man smoked in two cases. When he felt supremely satisfied and when he was nervous. Now, to his displeasure, he felt very nervous.

It seemed to him that he was blessed by heaven and experienced unrealistic great happiness, just feeling you next to him. When you were around, when you both were cooking dinner, exchanging life stories.

This gave him strength for life and the necessary energy, that he had lacked for a very long time. Exactly from the moment when problems began in his family.

You were something distant and wonderful to him. You were always honest with him, and without hesitation, directly to his face, said what you think, without fear and without missing a single detail from your words. You could, without any fear, say a lot of nasty things to him in response to his teasing, despite his high position, not only as your boss, but also in principle as a member of high society.

He knew that you always tell others to their faces, everything that you think about them, without fear of being judged for it. And the fact that you were sincere about it made him sure that you were the person to whom he could turn for help without fear and with whom he could simply have a heart-to-heart talk.

Perhaps you could tease him about it. And that would definitely happen.

Tartaglia grunted with a smirk and, throwing the ashes from the cigarette out the window, started the car engine when the traffic light changed from red to green.

But you would never refuse him a heart-to-heart talk. He was sure of it.

So now every part of his body burned in agony when he thought that he was just using you for his own benefit. Perhaps, at the beginning of the bet with Ayato, he wouldn't care, and he wouldn't worry at all about such a simple little thing as your feelings. But now…

He thinks that this bet was a stupid idea. Perhaps he could deal with his problems on his own, but he was so enthralled by the fact that Ayato's mother was the chief judge in the Snezhnaya court, so he simply couldn't refuse such an opportunity at that moment. He didn't know where to put himself right now.

Childe felt one desolation, that corroded all his insides with acrid cigarette smoke, preventing him from taking a saving breath of air. Thoughts of you swirled in his head at the speed of light, mingling with dirty insults against himself. Right now, he felt like he was being sucked into a black hole, and there was no way out.

Annoyed, the man scraped his fingernail against the leather steering wheel and swore loudly when the car in front of his car suddenly moved into his lane.

"Fuck." The man cursed, throwing his cigarette out the window and clutching the steering wheel.

His car moved forward at high speed. Adrenaline coursed through his veins at a furious pace, bringing a momentary sense of calm and contentment that slowly faded away as he thought about where he was heading now.

Friends invited him to come together at Scaramouche's house after yesterday's party to discuss some questions regarding some aspects of the common business.

His friends had their own brand called "Harbingers", that they distributed and sold throughout the country and even beyond its borders. Signora was a famous fashion designer, Scaramouche was engaged in the jewelry industry, Dottore liked to deal with mechanics and modeling.

Childe didn't participate in this, because he was preparing to become the heir to a big company, but he wasn't averse to supporting the ideas of his friends, so he always attended such meetings.

Of course, this meeting definitely wasn't limited to business matters, because the ginger man was clearly given to understand that his friends knew about his bet with Ayato, who was also supposed to be there.

His blue eyes flared brightly as he started thinking about Ayato and this stupid bet. If he had the ability to go back in time, he would definitely drop this fucking bet.

But at the same time… He was thinking that if not for this bet, you and he would never have become so close. Tartaglia didn't know what to feel from these thoughts.

The ginger man would like to shield you from everything related to this bet, from his personal family problems, from Ayato. But when he thought that this would mean that you and he couldn't be near each other, he became sad and lonely at heart.

But, all these thoughts aside, what scared him the most was the realization that one moment you would find out about everything.

He wanted to be with you a little longer, and, frankly, he wanted to delay the moment when you find out about everything for as long as possible.

Meanwhile, while he was in his thoughts, his black car drove into a small garden that surrounded Scaramouche's mansion on all sides. Childe's thoughts were starting to go back to yesterday when he was here with you.

And by the time you met Aether. And how that blond moron held your hand right in front of Childe's face.

"Damn it." The man hissed and ran his free hand through his ginger hair in annoyance as he parked his car near the white mansion. He turned off the engine and removed the keys from the ignition, exhaling sharply.

He decided that he would return to these thoughts a little later, and took a deep breath to calm his irritation and nervousness. A quick glance of blue eyes in the rearview mirror, and there was nothing left of his former vulnerable state.

The ginger man made the most casual expression on his face, ruffled his unruly hair, twisted his lips into a smirk and left the car, slamming the door loudly.

Muffled music could be heard from the second floor of the mansion, and Childe thought his friends had picked up the girls from the club again. He rolled his eyes — how predictable. The autumn wind howled with a roar and blew strongly at his back, driving him to the big house.

The ginger man entered the mansion without even bothering to ring the doorbell. He knew that the door was always open when they had these meetings.

Inside the house, as always, it smelled of expensive alcohol and cigarettes, this was different from the cheap alcohol that Scaramouche bought for yesterday's party, so Tartaglia, with some pleasure, inhaled the alluring smell into his nostrils and went straight to the second floor, where loud and cheerful voices were heard.

When the man entered Scaramouche's office, he looked around, noting to himself that not all of the Harbingers were today here. Perhaps someone had more important things to do. Or maybe someone just didn't want to come. This happened quite often.

Only Signora, Scaramouche, Pantalone and Columbina were in the office. The women sat on a brown leather sofa, Rosalyne smoking a cigar and Columbina sipping expensive wine.

Pantalone looked very concentrated as he sat at Scaramouche's desk, his eyes flickering over some documents. Scaramouche stood at the window and muttered something displeased under his breath.

"Why invite me to this meeting if you just wanted to have fun here with the whores from the strip club?" Signora snorted displeasedly, looking out of the corner of her eye at the girls dancing on the table.

There was a slight chuckle next to her.

"I don't think it's bad. Look at it the other way." Columbina said in a thin voice, taking a sip of red wine. "Look at their physique. You could give them a chance to make their lives better by asking them to be your models."

"I'm not going to waste my time on second-rate trash." Rosalyne grunted and stubbed out her cigar in a golden ashtray.

"Let's put that fact aside and remember that Ayato and Childe like spending time with this type of girl." said Pantalone, continuing to check bills and documents. In their business, the man was mainly responsible for the funds and money, that he skillfully distributed among all the Harbingers.

"Now I understand what you think about me." The ginger man snorted, finally making his presence known in the office. Three people stared at him, with the exception of Scaramouche, who seemed not to move an ear when he heard his friend's voice.

"Isn't that right?" Pantalone raised an eyebrow, and his lips broke into a smile that Childe found very vile. "I thought you liked women without outstanding intellect, but with curvaceous forms."

"Shut up." Covering his eyes with his palm, Tartaglia said angrily and sighed.

"Well, why are you so cruel to him, Pantalone?" A voice was heard from the direction of the door, and Childe felt a hand on his shoulder. He recognizes Ayato's voice immediately. "Recently, our friend got a very nice girlfriend. Without outstanding forms, of course, but she's pretty smart. You won't tell them, Childe?"

"Shut up, Ayato." Tartaglia hissed.

"Is that the cutie you were pressing against the railing on the balcony?" Rosalyne asked slyly, covering her mouth with her hand. Her blue eyes were full of mischief and obvious mockery.

"Did you see us?!" The man asked excitedly, breaking free of Ayato's grip and moving closer to the two women sitting on the sofa.

"So I'm right!" Clapping her hands contentedly, she easily threw one leg over the other and pursed her lips feignedly. "Yes, I saw you and her. And even talked to her after you left."

"What did you say to her?!" The man exclaimed excitedly, slightly surprising the women sitting in front of him.

Tartaglia nervously and excitedly considered every option that you could talk about with Rosalyne, and what a woman could say to you. Could she tell you that you're the object of his bet or that he was engaged?

One was worse than the other. He could feel every cell in his body screaming in agony in fear of the fact that you would ever find out.

Childe took a few deep breaths, realizing that Signora would hardly have told you about something like that, because, according to Ayato, she only found out about the bet yesterday. As for his marriage to Lumine… Could she have said that?

"Don't worry, I didn't talk to her about Lumine." Understanding what he was thinking, Rosalyne smirked, leaning back on the sofa and watching Tartaglia's tense face. "If think about how you used the cute Y/n for your own gain, you also got engaged at the same time… Very exciting, don’t you think?"

"This is fun for you?" The ginger man's patience was running out. He clenched his fist, leaving crescent-shaped fingernail marks on his skin. The pain helped sober the mind.

"Isn't it so for you?" Ayato asked slyly, standing next to the ginger man again. A mischievous smirk appeared on the face of the man with blue hair.

He watched Tartaglia's eyes darting nervously from side to side and continued to say, "Have you forgotten that Y/n is just your way of avoiding an engagement with Lumine? All you need is to get her into your bed, remember?"

The ginger man felt great rage appeared in his chest. His blue eyes narrowed as Childe glanced at Ayato and saw only genuine amusement on his friend's face. Ayato chuckled.

"For some reason, I thought that poor simpleton like her wouldn't mind going to bed with a rich man to hit a good jackpot."

A sharp push to the side knocked out all the air from Ayato's lungs, when Tartaglia slammed him into the concrete wall with high force, frightening absolutely everyone in the room with his unexpected action. The blue-haired man was surprised at first, but after a few seconds, a wry smirk appeared on his face.

Childe's eyes flashed with unbridled anger and rage, that sparkled in his blue irises. The force with that he squeezed his friend's forearms with his hands seemed to leave bruises. There was absolute silence in the office until the ginger man spoke.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that, or I can't be held responsible for my actions."

Ayato chuckled and effortlessly freed himself from his friend's grip, after that Childe also pulled away from him, holding back his rage raging in his veins. His fists itched uncomfortably, the pent-up strength begging to be released, but he suppressed the remnants of irritation and exhaled heavily.

"Has she really become very important to you in such a short time?" Ayato asked, pushing his bangs aside.

"It doesn't concern you." The ginger man growled and headed for the exit without another word. But no one demanded words of explanation from him, because the office had been quiet until now.

"If you both do this again in my house, you both will never come here again." It was heard from Scaramouche when Tartaglia left the office.

"Yes, I know." Casually said Childe.

Now he couldn't stay in this mansion, because everything here seemed so alien, when, on the contrary, your house, from that he left a few hours ago, was a saving place for him.

Despite the fact that your day started early in the morning, you felt quite rested. You managed to take a little nap after telling Tartaglia "goodbye" and returning home.

Remembering this now, you involuntarily blush, waiting for your laptop to finally turn on. Next to the laptop was a cup of freshly brewed coffee, that had a truly bewitching aroma.

You decided that you would call your family back in the morning when Tartaglia leaves your home. You were still embarrassed for being so rude to Xiao and hanging up his call without even letting him say a few words.

Part of you thought that it was the right decision, but the second part told you that you acted very rudely and badly. That's why you called your brother with complete confidence right now with a sincere desire to apologize.

To your surprise, it wasn't Xiao who answered the call, but your mother. She looked a little tired, but cheerfully smiled at you from the other side of the screen.

"Hi, mom." You scratched your cheek and reached for the white cup to take a sip of coffee. On the pink surface of the cup was a picture of a white bunny holding a small heart in its paws. You loved cute things like this and always bought something like that for yourself when you had some money left to spend on yourself.

"Hi, darling." The woman greeted you and smiled softly. "Me and Xiao miss you very much. When will you have time to visit us?"

"I miss you both too, mom, but you know I have a lot of work to do." You sighed and shook your head in thought. You didn't have time to visit your family at all.

"You should definitely come closer to Christmas!" The woman said with a slight sternness, but then she smiled again and continued to say, "I must feed you well before you leave again."

You laughed.

"Okay, mom, I understood you. Anyway tell me, where is Xiao now?"

The woman thought for a moment and answered. "He said he was going to the library for more astronomy books and left a few minutes ago."

"Damn it." You sighed.

"He told me about what happened yesterday. According to him, you acted very strangely." Your mother shook her head, but then she smiled slyly and said in an unctuous voice. "And he also mentioned some ginger young man who was with you."

You instantly choked on the hot coffee and coughed, feeling your cheeks flush with a bright blush.

"Was he right?" The woman smiled. "I already thought he was joking."

"You know he'll never joke about it!" You snorted in annoyance.

"And yet, who was it?" Your mother asked with interest, moving a little closer to the laptop screen so as not to miss a single word of yours.

You snorted again, remembering about Tartaglia. Your cheeks gradually began to burn from a blush.

"He's just my colleague from work, he came to my house to take the documents."

"Is that so…" The woman said thoughtfully.

"So I had to hang up the call." You answered while looking at your phone, waiting for a message from Yoimiya. "You know how he treats other men."

Your mom nodded in understanding, after that your phone finally received a message from your friend.

"Oh, mom, listen, I made an appointment to meet Yoimiya and Ei today to go shopping." You said as you awkwardly got up from your chair and stumbled a little because of your clumsiness. "So I must go now."

"Of course, darling, have fun!" The woman smiled in understanding. "But I'm looking forward to the moment when you drop your excuses and tell me about this ginger young man."

"Mother!" You exclaimed indignantly, blushing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The woman laughed as she watched you run around your room and get ready to meet your friends.

"I completely forgot to tell you, mom!" You stopped suddenly in front of your laptop, and the woman looked at you with a question. You put on a beige sweater and continued to say, "Please apologize to Xiao again for me. And remind him that in two weeks he will need to come to Snezhnaya to submit documents to the academy and pass the entrance exams. He will need to free up three days for this."

"Okay, darling." The woman nodded with a smile. "Have fun!"

"Of course, mom. I love you! Bye." You ended the call and again heard a message come to your phone. Probably Yoimiya and Ei were already waiting for you near your house. You decided that you needed to hurry up and continued to get ready for a shopping trip.

"I tell you that he isn't as rude as he wants to appear to others!" You answered displeasedly when you and your friends started talking about Tartaglia again.

You tried your best to avoid the topic, but restless Yoimiya still found a way to get all the information out of you.

She knew that yesterday you went somewhere with a ginger man who had irritated you so much before. And now she was itching to know everything that had happened between you and Childe.

Ei, to your delight, was less enthusiastic about it, for that you were very grateful to her. For the most part, she was silent during this conversation, occasionally inserting her pertinent, peremptory comments and once again telling to Yoimiya be calm.

"You changed your mind about him so quickly!" The blonde exclaimed excitedly and put her hand to her lips with a slight chuckle. "Have you fallen in love with him?"

Your cheeks blushed and you glared at your friend angrily. This is the second person in a day talking about it! Your mother mayn't have said it directly, but that is what she meant by her words. Sometimes you thought that your mother and Yoimiya were like two peas in a pod.

"N-nothing like that!" You snorted, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away from your friend. "I just had a little misunderstanding with him, that we then settled. Nothing more. It's just friendship!"

Really?

You thought for a second. Did you really think so or did you want to deceive yourself? After all, you didn't understand how you should have felt for him.

You were calm next to him, you felt comfortable and warm, but his rude and teasing manner pissed you off. But for some reason, his teasing and seductive behavior made your heart beat several times faster.

His love for his family, his good intentions and desire to make them happy, his beautiful blue eyes… You immediately patted your cheeks and turned your head from side to side to let those foolish thoughts leave your mind.

"Hey, Y/n, can you hear me?" Yoimiya waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

"Yoimiya, be more restrained." The purple-haired girl said with a hint of sternness. "Y/n was just thinking about something."

"I'm sure she was thinking about someone." The blonde grunted and laughed as you gave her an indignant friendly slap on the shoulder.

"Let's hurry!" Trying to change the topic, you walked forward enthusiastically. "Soon a daily action should begin in the cafe. We mustn't miss this!"

Your friends also enthusiastically supported your words with smiles, and the three of you hurried to your favorite cafe.

The cafe was very comfortable and calm. Quiet music was heard from the radio, the cafe smelled of freshly baked buns with sugar and fragrant coffee. When you entered the cafe, a pleasant smell of baking entered your nose, and you smiled relaxed, glad that you could have a good rest today.

Your friends sat down at your common favorite table, you told them you were going to order and hurried to the barista. You moved closer to the small crowd of people hoping to get in line, but suddenly you felt like you collided with someone on the way to your goal.

A powerful sense of deja vu swept through your mind and hit you in the head. You swore angrily in your thoughts. It seemed to you that you had a talent for making new acquaintances using this method.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you." You immediately apologized, genuinely worried about the condition of the person you encountered.

"No, no, don't apologize. I didn't look where I was going either." A gentle and beautiful voice was heard from the side, and you finally raised your eyes with interest to the one who spoke to you.

A woman with short blonde hair and big golden eyes was looking at you.

— taglist: @httpmitsuya @gojoandelsalovechilde @duckyyyx @i-x4o @chishiyawifesworld @ajaxstar @kiryoutann @xiaosonlybeloved @aloveablechaos

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saintchaser · 11 months

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cigarette conversations

Remus had been lying in bed for a while. Outside was dark, and the moon lit up his features; a bitter ode to what he was. A single candle was lit up, the only source of warmth in the apartment. Remus blew it, and he chased the smoke the same way he chased Sirius; whenever he walked back home, there was no one there.

He and Sirius were playing a game in which both of them would lose; a waltz of death, and grief, and anger.

The door clicked, and Remus almost wanted to go and kiss Sirius, to welcome him in what used to be their nest of love. Almost. Instead, he focused on Sirius; the thud of his boots when they hit the floor, his sigh, the sound the hanger made when Sirius put his heavy coat on it, his steps against the sticky floors. He focused on those moments; on the few moments that the two of them had together.

"What's the moment I remember when I conjure a Patronus?" Sirius asked; the questions were a routine. Both of them thought of the other as the traitor; or so, at least Remus did, and that made questioning pointless. However, there was something holding him back from going to Dumbledore and spilling his secrets, blood and poison, something holding him back from telling Sirius to leave; because Remus was still hopelessly, irrevocably in love with him.

"Regulus' first word. It was your name," He added, and there's a weird feeling in his stomach when he said that. He knew so much about Sirius; and he didn't only know the beautiful, what Sirius showed the world, what he wanted them to see; he knew the rotten, too, words whispered in the dead of the night over nicotine-stained fingers and alcohol-imbued lips. "What was a part of your wedding speech at James' wedding?"

"Puns. And a lot of crying, especially from James, that emotional prick," Sirius said, letting out a breathy laugh, and Remus basked in it; it was so rare, nowadays, a smile or a laugh, and Sirius' was so enticing.

Sirius sat down next to him, the bed squeaking and creaking under the weight of both of them, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes; he held it out to Remus, who pulled one out, lacking the elegance that he had when he did that. Sirius brought their foreheads together, and there was a certain intimacy in that; it had been a while ever since they had loved each other that close, and Remus' eyes flicked between his lover, who snapped his fingers and lit up their cigarettes, and his arms, folded in his lap.

He wanted to punch Sirius, hurt him, love him, and kiss him; his feelings were overwhelming, and Remus' heart thrummed in his chest. He wanted to chase the smoke of the last cigarette they shared, maybe then, he'd still love Sirius. He wanted to think he hadn't sold his soul, he wanted to think that they were still in love, that they would be fine. They would be. They had to be, right? Would their nights of love dissipate, slipping through their fingers? Would their hatred for each other burn in their veins, rotten and disgusting?

Were they still in love? Or were they a temporary ailment to each other? They used to be in love, a love that burned both of them; passionate, a fire that consumed them, reduced them to ashes. Was that what they were? The ashes of boyish souls, ghosts of the past, remains of their love?

"Do we still love each other?" Remus asked, and he didn't know the answer; their bedroom was drowning in the night, the only light being their cigarettes and the moon. The room was filled with smoke, and he could only see, through the haze, Sirius' eyes shining.

"I don't know," Sirius answered, and there was a vulnerable sincerity in his words. "I wish I could give you an actual answer." He let out a laugh, and that was the moment when, even if he was over him, even if the war was eating them apart, blood and flesh and howls of pain, Remus realized he was still in love with Sirius.

#no clue what this is; a moment of closure in the nights of the war maybe? one last conversation of lovers before they rot?#anyways i'm having Thoughts about war time wolfstar and they have a special place in my heart #becausr they did think that the other was the spy but they loved each other too much to say anything #anyways. thinking about them.#sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #wolfstar angst #wolfstar fluff #(because it's kind of love. also this piece is loosely inspired by destiny by chloe ament)#my writing #song fic #late night conversations

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bowlerhatwearer · 2 years

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Where did Victor discovered the blood stones/crystals/quarts?

Greetings Anon ^^

I like to think that Victor found them in the past, in an isolated location in Duststorm Valley, a place that is not, easy to access but he went there anyways, in the hopes he might find there a gold vein that had yet to be discovered, if there would have been any, he would have sold the claim quickly.

But there was barley to none gold there, Victor hit a rock with a pickax or a rock hammer discovering the bright shiny red gemstone inside, that immediately reminded him of the eyes of Margaret. Instead of selling his claim, he kept the location a secret, usually he didn't mind mining operations but, in this case he liked the idea that it was his "secret spot" where he always could go to get more of the Blood stones/crystals/gems/quartz without anyone else knowing about this place, except for Margaret.

He took a "few" samples with him, some which Victor used to commission jewelry made out of them for his wife and some keeping around because even in their natural state they looked nice. He liked the idea to present with gemstones and jewelry, that apparently the whole world didn't know about, it was a nice thought for Victor to present his wife with something, no one else had. In a way the jewelries are unique presents. At one point he showed one of those samples to Joanna, who could immediately feel the magic the sample radiated, Joanna saw that those stones bear great potential...but also that in the wrong hands they could be abused, so she asked Victor not to tell anyone, who was ok with it because he wasn't going to anyways.

Joanna meanwhile is taking a few small samples, conduction experiments with them, they appear to react strongly, and well with blood magic if used carefully.

Yours sincerely

Bowler

#Roadkillerz #RKZ #Bloodstone RKZ #Margaret Robinson #Roadkillerz OC #RKZ OC #Victor Owens #Joanna Owens #Owens Family #OC #OC from me #Ask #Anonymous #Anon #Are they stones; quartz; crystals or diamonds #I wish I knew myself #Because I still can't decide #Blood Gems RKZ

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

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Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.28}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

It was the middle of March when a simple trip to Hogsmeade turned into the beginning of the very end.

Robin had let Cas and Jorien talk her into coming along to town this Hogsmeade Saturday, and she had used the opportunity to sell another batch of rare ingredients in the small dingy shop she had actually come to appreciate for just that at this point. After dropping the girls off at Honeydukes, she'd gone on to the potions shop by herself, scared the shop owner beyond reason yet again just for her own amusement, and left a little while later with an even larger sum of galleons in her bag than the previous time she had been there. Really, it was incredible for just how much some of the stuff she possessed sold even around here. Thus, content and smiling to herself for the well accomplished mission, she made her slow way back from the shady part of the village to where she was supposed to meet the girls on high street in twenty minutes. Hopefully time would pass quickly… it was terribly cold outside, even for March, and Robin couldn't wait for a nice hot cup of coffee in whatever cafe the girls would surely drag her into next.

When she crossed from one mud covered street into an even narrower alley of much the same sodden ground, her smile was wiped off her face however, in the very instant a repelling spell hit her square in the chest and sent her flying backwards into the half frozen dirt of the larger road before she even had the time to register what was happening to her. Suddenly void of every air in her lungs, Robin gasped, then yelped when her back hit the hard ground and unruly stone, sending a hot searing pain up her spine that made her eyes water. Adrenaline rushed into her veins, as flooring as it was exhilarating, and while her mind was spinning as it tried to grasp for a sense of what was happening, she already had her wand in her hand only for it to be knocked straight out of there again by an Expelliarmus spoken by a very much familiar voice. Oh no…

"A path of shadows isn't a good place for my little songbird to dwell in… It isn't safe out here. The cats might come to prey on you." Damion Morgan sighed exaggeratedly, while he picked Robin's wand off the ground before she ever had the chance to reach for it. "Get up now dear, before you become as sodden as the ground."

Robin's mind spun in hazy circles of panic as she scrambled to her feet without taking her eyes off the man in front of her. Really, it was her bad luck that it was his turn to supervise this particular Hogsmeade weekend. And away from the school, away from anyone who would witness the incident, she was as good as doomed alone with him in this bloody back alley. For a second, her mind sped through her options. Apparating away? No, not without her wand. Wandless magic, perhaps? In the matter of a few seconds she tried every defensive spell she knew she could do without her wand, running a string of words through her mind with as much focus as she could fathom, but they all proved ineffective against the smug man in front of her. Fuck… he certainly wouldn't make it as easy for her as the last few times, he had already shown her glimpses of that back on new year's. Perhaps he wasn't quite as untalented in the dark arts as she had always tried to convince herself of.

"You needn't try, darling. After the little stunt you pulled on me on the night of the welcoming feast, I have seen to it that my own resistance to your admirable spellwork was fit to counter. And after years of studying you in my class, I know just what spells you have up your sleeve." He told her just in that moment with a disgustingly sweet smile. Dropping his arm with his wand to his side then, he took a step closer to Robin to be right in front of her now. "I had so hoped we could do this in another way. I had hoped it would never have to come this far, if only you had chosen me as I have chosen you. Now, all there is left for either of us is pain."

"Indeed." Robin replied in a breathless huff, and while she didn't understand a single thing of what he was saying with his many words, she knew that she wouldn't get a better chance than this. Without wasting any time overthinking for once, she curled her hand into a fist and punched Morgan straight in the face as strongly as she could. Magic was nice and all, but sometimes the muggle way to do things did work just as well. The blazing pain, the sting and burn that spread from her knuckles up into her entire arm in an instant was well worth it as she discovered, for Morgan dropped both Robin's wand and his own when he instinctively clutched his hands to his hurting face.

What followed then definitely followed too fast. Robin went to claw for her wand immediately, but so did Morgan with his own. Both reached theirs in a striking simultaneity, and in the very same they directed at each other their respectively chosen spells. It wasn't a matter of thought, of conscious action or strategy, but rather an adrenaline driven instinctive defense that made Robin send yet another stunning spell at Morgan. And it seemed no less instinctive for him to send a curse to her in return. Both spells hit their target, both too quick and intricate to deflect. Morgan once more landed on his behind in the offgoing alley, groaning but unfortunately still very much in consciousness. Robin on the other hand let out a bone chilling scream, then crippled into a heap on the very ground she had stood upon, ridden by such a sudden explosion of pain in every cell of her body that it replaced both sense of self and thought. She couldn't breathe, couldn't speak, couldn't move… Her wand lay only inches from her hand, but she found the distance impossible to cross, impossible to think of fighting back at all. All she could do was to keep her eyes wide open as she lay curled up on her side in repeated shivers of pain that drowned out even the cold around her, beneath her, and to watch how Morgan came approaching her once again. His wand raised and pointed at her with a sneer on his face.

"You will have to be better than that, my dear…" He sighed in a raspy voice, then finally crouched down right in front of her and almost affectionately brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "You will never succeed if you do not even try. The time has almost come, I'm afraid, and I can no longer hold it off. Neither can I resist you anymore. Oh, how I wish you just could've been mine."

All Robin could do in return was to whimper, as pathetic as it was, but she had no capacity left within her being to care about anything but the pain that was eating her up from the inside. Only in blurred lines above her in her quaking field of vision, Morgan's face twisted in as much agony as she felt, and yet he wore an expression of the utmost sympathy. Robin suddenly felt sick and terribly exposed, and she turned her face downward in a vain attempt to shield herself from the sight of him. Pressing herself into the mud and stone beneath her even if the rash pebbles cut into her skin like a million shards of cruel fate.

"I could end it right here, you know… I should end it here and in this instant." He spoke again, through a layer of sincere remorse. "But I cannot do it if you do not resist. I… I can't, Robin. Not like this. Please don't make me do it like this."

The pain in her body surged to new heights with every word he said, and she let out a strangled sob, a cry of sheer agony even, and perhaps an equal amount of fear. Every atom of her body was torn apart, stabbed with a million knives over and over again while her soul was split into a state between life and death. So much for fighting back… so much for doing anything to protect herself. There was nothing she could do now. She's had her chance, and she'd waisted it on the mildest repelling spell she knew. A bloody idiot, that she was, and nothing more. Perhaps, for that, she did deserve death after all.

No. She was better than that. Robin couldn't give in, not now, not like this, not ever. She had made a mistake by choosing the wrong spell, yes, but she had to work with the consequences now. She would not give up. Never. She couldn't do that to Snape… after all he had been through in his life, he deserved happiness that lasted longer than bloody two and a half months before the next tragedy came haunting him. So did she. They deserved better, and no bloody Damion Morgan could get in the way of that. With the most miserably shaking hand, she tried reaching for her wand, fingertips brushing against the dark wood after what seemed like eternities of pain. Do it do it do it do it do it… Her instincts begged her to finally make use of one of the thousands of horrible curses she had come across over the years, or even to just apparate away for good. But when her sight fell onto Morgan's highly expectant, almost begging expression, her reason won over the instinct. He wanted her to fight. Wanted her to try running. And she would not play this game by his rules anymore.

With another pained whine, Robin clasped her wand in her hand, holding both tightly pressed against her chest, then she rolled onto her back to look up at Morgan's twisted face above her, and even further up at the blindingly white sky. A new wave of maddening pain, she could hardly breathe. Hardly think.

"You really are quite beautiful, you know… Even now, like this." Morgan sighed sadly while his eyes traced the paths Robin's angry tears had painted on her muddied skin. "And while I look at your lovely being every morning and every night of every day, you I hardly ever get to see. I must say though that the earrings are a nice addition. Very… modern."

His words still made no sense to Robin's mind, not now, not when the pain took away most of her thoughts in the first place. But she knew that she wanted him to stop playing with her. Think, idiot, through the bloody haze of pain! She'd done it before, pushing the pain away behind the walls in her mind… just enough to make room for reason. Just to focus, just for a moment.

He expected her to fight, or to run, to act in any way they had been taught in his very own class. Therefore he must be looking out for those spells, ready to stop her, ready to attack in return. He wanted her to resist, to fight back, that much had been clear for a long while now… and if she attacked him like that indeed, she very likely wouldn't survive the backlash he had probably been preparing for months now. At least not in her current state of painforced weakness. A state she had brought upon herself when she had let him put that curse on her. A curse of the kind he could only uphold if he put his entire focus on it. Gods! That was the flaw in his actions she had been looking for.

Still very much trembling, she lifted her hand to point her wand up at the sky, then closed her eyes when Morgan started to smile at her doings. He was still waiting for her to make the move that would finally allow him to murder her after all… but she wouldn't do him that favor. She had learned long ago to follow her reason, not her fight or flight instincts. This had to work, she had to be better. For herself, for Snape, for her friends. A faint Lux Obscurius left her lips in even less than a breath as her eyes flew open again, and a broken second later she could feel the earth beneath her vibrating when black lightnings hit the ground around her like a relentless hailstorm of her own fury.

It was enough. Enough to catch Morgan by surprise, to make him lose touch with his spellwork, his focus on Robin, and when the echo of soundless thunder overtook the air around them, the curse's pain was gone from Robin's mind, pushed out of her body by enough adrenaline that forced her onto her feet in an instant. Her wand gripped tightly in her hand, she pointed it at Morgan who staggered to his feet a second later when sound returned to the world.

He tried throwing another curse at her, but Robin had no problem deflecting it even without a word now that she knew what to expect. He tried again and again, growing in desperation and anger while losing in focus and determination, which made it all the easier for Robin to counter while her body and mind slowly recovered from the horrible pain. Luckily the curse had only been on her for a mere few minutes. She was still hurting now… but more so from her hard landing on the ground and a few scratches than from any kind of magic. So far so good.

"Haven't you learned anything throughout the years?!" Morgan cried out at her after a moment, and the string of spells thrown at Robin stopped for the moment as he caught his breath. "You are supposed to fight me! I'm trying to kill you and you just stand there like it's none of your goddamn business! Defend yourself properly, for heaven's sake!!! Try at least! Please!"

"No." Robin got out more or less calmly, but she knew better than to let his talking distract her again. She had made the mistake of letting him catch her off guard once, of underestimating what he would do to her if he got the chance. She wouldn't do it a second time. Neither would she attack him though, even if she had in past times almost hoped for a situation like this. An opportunity to get rid of him. But now that it was here, right in front of her, she found that she couldn't even curse him. Leave alone kill him, like she had always thought she would want to if it came this far. But she simply couldn't bring herself to do either.

"You are just like her, you know that?!" He yelled across the short distance between them, half in laughter, half in despair. "You're too bloody perfect, too much of everything I need to live. I have never been one for irony, but you, love, you are perhaps fate's cruelest twist of bloody irony in existence!"

Robin didn't respond to that. She wouldn't have known what to say anyway, not when he clearly was having a conversation with someone that wasn't her. Not really, anyway. He was just insane; only a madman talking nonsense who was trying to kill her for fun or his own delusional reasons whenever they met outside of class. That was all there was to it, all there could to be. Deep down however, Robin was starting to doubt just that more and more. He didn't seem insane… only caught up in a different reality than her. She was merely clinging onto her version of things for her own good at this point, and she would continue to do so until there was a more reasonable explanation. But for now, she stayed silent either way.

"You know that I will not stop trying, don't you? I cannot stop!" Morgan went on instead, loudly and unbothered in his desperation as if they weren't still in the middle of Hogsmeade. "And unless you kill me first, there is nothing you can do to change your fate!"

The loud banging of a wooden door to Robin's left suddenly caught both her and Morgan's attention then, as it flew open harshly before a bulky barrel of a man came stomping out with a deep frown on his face. Must be the backdoor to one of the taverns, Robin remembered just then. A truly lucky coincidence.

"What's all that shouting and yelling about now again?! Y'all be scaring my customers away!" The burly man bellowed in an instant, and his small angry eyes scanned Robin at first, then Morgan, and finally both their battered and dirty appearances. His anger turned into weariness in an instant, and he addressed Robin with an almost reluctant gaze and a motion towards Morgan. "Need any help dealing with that fellow?"

"Thank you…" Robin replied with a polite but very much feigned smile, then didn't even take her eyes off the barman while she sent a silent Stupefy at the still distracted Morgan, who registered her sudden attack only way too late. Out of the corner of her eye, Robin saw how the professor was thrown back and down the road by the spell, then stayed lying on the ground in a motionless heap. Truly unconscious, at long last. And yet, Robin's eyes did not once leave the flabbergasted bar owner who stared at her in return as she went on with her statement after a breath. "But I believe I am just fine."

"I, uh… Sorry, for… for interrupting." The man finally stammered out after a moment of taking in Robin's perfectly feigned calm and Morgan's unconscious body. "I'm just… gonna get back to my bar and leave you to your own business."

"Actually," Robin was quick to stop him from vanishing through the door, as she took a determined step towards him, "I would very much appreciate it if I could shortcut to high street through your… establishment."

… … …

Ten minutes later, Robin had almost reached the shop where she was supposed to meet Cas and Jorien. She'd gotten rid of the mud and water that had clung onto her in chunks before setting foot onto high street, which then had left her only with messy hair, a bleeding scratch over her eyebrow and too many thoughts yet to be dealt with. A look into one of the shop windows confirmed that she still looked quite as terrible as she felt; cold, confused, exhausted and anxious enough to burst. Putting her hair up into a bun and a stasis charm onto the scratch to provisionally keep it from bleeding did a good enough job at fixing the outside flaws, but her mind remained troubled as it could be when she finally went to seek out the girls. She was 10 minutes late anyway, no need to let them wait even longer than that.

But even when she slowly approached their meeting spot, she couldn't quite move past what had just happened. Sure, Morgan had hurt her before, had said things along the same lines of her belonging to him, but this just surpassed it all. She didn't doubt that he truly wanted to kill her, even if her refusal to fight back seemed to have hindered him in that today. He certainly wouldn't allow himself to make such a mistake another time, wouldn't hold back nor let his twisted emotions overcome him. His intention was more than clear at this point; his reasons were not. Because as much as Robin wanted to blame it all on insanity, the things he'd said and done, the sincere desperation and agony displayed on his face when he had begged her to fight back just didn't add up anymore. There was a reason to the things he did, a very much sane one, but it was yet veiled in darkness. He said he would try to end her again… So she would have to find out what the hell was going on before then. Why he had said those weird things that still kept nagging at her mind in the strangest way, ringing some distant bells she couldn't quite put her finger to. Gods, she felt exhausted enough for her hands to shake even beyond the cold… it was a miracle that her legs hadn't given out yet.

"Finally you grace us with your presence, Robin!!! Jorien and I have been freezing to death out here for the last ten minutes!" Cas' relieved and reproachful voice pulled Robin out of her thoughts, but it also made her jump in an instant. Visibly, for once. Great…

"Are you alright?" Jorien asked immediately with a big frown on her face, just when Robin came to stand in front of them. "You look-… There's really no nice way to say it. Tired and battered is the mildest one, probably."

"Oh, you know me… always running into one thing or another." She replied with a sigh and a half smile that was more feigned than sincere. "But yeah, I'm quite exhausted, and way too cold. I'm sorry I made you wait, I was held up and couldn't get away from the situation for the longest time."

"It's fine…" Cas sighed as well, a lot milder in her expression already. "We were late anyway, so we really only waited a couple minutes out here."

That finally brought a sincere smile to Robin's lips, even if a small one. Of course they'd been late as well… they always were. Well, thank Morgan for holding her up long enough to spare her the waiting time. Robin snorted at her own thought, and couldn't quite understand why almost dying was suddenly so amusing. Then again, Snape had always been saying that her humour could be quite morbid at times. He was right, as always. Gods, she just wanted to be back with him already, wrapped up in a tight hug, telling him all about what happened… but he was still stuck with the dunderheads who had earned themselves detention this week, and wouldn't be free until after dinnertime. Which was one of the main reasons why Robin had agreed to go to Hogsmeade today in the first place.

"If you're exhausted, we perhaps better skip the next part of our grandiose plans for the day…" Jorien said, thereby regaining Robin's attention in time for her to see the sheer disappointment on both girls' faces. "It probably was a stupid idea anyway. Let's just go to a cafe instead."

"No, it's alright! Don't worry about me." Robin replied in an instant, when her inability to bear seeing the girls sad got the better of her. Damn her empathy, a cozy cafe sounded nice right now… and whatever plans they had made surely wouldn't be nearly as relaxing. But as much as she annoyed herself by doing so, she couldn't help putting them and their happiness first. "We can do whatever you guys originally planned. It's fine!"

The smiles were back on their faces in an instant, as was the excitement and mischief, and while Robin didn't know what she had just gotten herself into, she was prone to find out when they immediately started dragging her off down the street. Two minutes later, they stepped through the door to one of the surprisingly many clothes shops in the small village, and this one obviously seemed to cater more to the younger generations. That was the only thing Robin could tell from the look around she had immediately upon their entrance. A nervous habit, really, that had only intensified now after getting so stupidly taken by surprise earlier.

"So…" Cas started with a grin while she walked ahead in obvious certainty where she wanted to go. "You know how in a week I'm going home with Simon for the easter holidays, right?"

"You mentioned it a couple million times, yes." Robin sassed in feigned annoyance, but her small smile was a sincere one yet again. How could she forget, when both Cas and Simon had been speaking of little else over the last few days. It was rather adorable, really, how excited both of them were to spend time together outside of school for once, at last, after over a year of dating. Robin had the utmost understanding for that, and for them in general.

"Funny." Cas rolled her eyes at Robin, but then went on while she slalomed around shelves and tables of clothes with the others in tow. "Anyway, I wanted to get some nicer things for the occasion. You know, like some pajamas and underwear and stuff… Everything I have is terribly childish or boring and just meh."

Oh dear… Robin could relate more to that than she wanted to admit, and that level of subtle embarrassment wasn't something she currently wanted to deal with. Nor did she want to discuss these matters with her roommates, even if they seemed to have no reluctance to do so the other way round. To her luck, they at least weren't here because of her. Or so she sincerely hoped.

"To shortcut Cas' elaborations, we picked out some stuff for her, but we couldn't really decide and weren't too sure if it was too much or too little, so we were hoping you could give your usual overly-rational evaluation." Jorien concluded factually, and Robin only nodded her agreement with a silent sigh.

This really was the most horrible timing; she had no room in her mind for insignificant matters like clothing! There was only fear and anxiety and concern… and Morgan's words still nagging at her. 'You are just like her', he'd said. Like who? Did Robin remind him of someone who all of his anger and affection likewise were actually directed at? 'While I look at your lovely being every morning and every night of every day, you I hardly ever get to see.'... What the hell was that supposed to mean? Robin always made a conscious effort to avoid Morgan as much as possible, to the extent of almost hiding from him during mealtimes. They only really met in defense classes these days. So he really hardly got to see her indeed… but he looked at her being every day? One of the photos of her that had been in the paper, perhaps? But then he would see her as well, not her being. Ugh, this was just-...

"Earth to Robin!" Cas snapped her fingers in front of Robin's face with raised eyebrows. They were standing in front of a line of changing cubicles now, or rather Jorien and Robin were, while Cas stood in the door of one and moved back towards the mirror inside where she looked at herself. Robin had to frown when her attention returned to the current moment. Cas was still wearing her own clothes, but in the mirror, her reflection wore the piece she was trying to show to her friends.

"Interesting spellwork with the mirrors…" Robin mused before she could help it. "Is that a common thing in clothes shops around here?"

"...yes?!" Cas scoffed incredulously at the –to her– obviously inane question. "You really don't go shopping often enough. The mirrors are charmed to show you what the pieces would look like on you. Then you only have to try on the things you actually like on yourself for the right size. We've done that already, so it's just deciding between the looks now. What do you think?"

With an almost impressed expression, Robin studied both the mirror and Cas' reflection for a moment to actually make an effort at last. Perhaps this wasn't quite as terrible as she'd thought… Sure, it seemed kind of ridiculous to be here shopping now after she'd had to fight for her life half an hour ago. But perhaps that was why it was a good idea after all; a remedy for all the ghosts in her head, the fear and anxiety in her body. It might do her good to get some distance to the events before trying to understand them.

Thus for the next forty minutes Robin did her best to actually focus on the girls and on helping Cas with her shopping. They really had picked some nice things that weren't too over the top, and after Robin had given her commentary and evaluation as well, the selection Cas was left with was well worth their efforts. Robin was almost led to believe that allowing them to drag her here hadn't been quite such a terrible idea as she'd originally thought.

That was until Jorien and Cas were fooled enough by Robin's desperate efforts to push through this endeavor with the very last of her energy and enthusiasm to try to make her try things on as well. And that Robin really didn't have the mindset for today. Being alive was currently a higher priority to her than being well dressed, which the two younger girls of course had no understanding for. They couldn't, really, and Robin wouldn't burden them with it either. Thus she agreed to let them pick whatever while she would patiently stand in front of the mirror to let them gawk at the reflection, as long as she wouldn't have to actually physically change. Or make an effort to show sincere interest in any of the pieces any longer.

For a while the girls picked all kinds of both horrendous and actually quite nice pieces just to giggle and fawn over and Robin simply let them. As long as they were having fun, she couldn't care less if they made her reflection look like a clown or a magazine model. And while her reflection's garments changed from t-shirts to dresses to pajamas to lingerie, she resumed her pondering of Morgan's words and actions as well as her own. Ignoring the outside world as successfully as ever for a good twenty minutes at least.

"How strange…" Cas' half humoured and half confused huff was what pulled Robin back into the reality around her at last, and she followed the girl's line of sight to her underwear-clad reflection. Good gods… she looked like the closest thing to a piece of pastry she'd ever seen. Or an 18th century mistress. Or both.

"What's so strange?" Jorien asked a short moment later, and frowned at Robin's ridiculous reflection as well.

"I haven't really noticed before either, because I was admittedly distracted by the fun pieces of clothing, but it's really quite obvious now." Cas replied and crossed her arms over her chest with an almost smug expression. "Tell me, what do you see?"

Jorien scoffed, then rolled her eyes, but went to answer nonetheless. "Well, I see Robin, looking like an ancient painting of some royal hooker. Don't tell me you see any more than that in the mirror…"

The words sent a surge of immediate anxiety and adrenaline through Robin, and while she thought that it was due to the discomfort upon looking like a tart at first, the impression soon was replaced by the nagging in the back of her mind that picked up stronger than ever. Her mind started spinning too fast, thoughts tumbling over each other in both panic and reason. Gods, she could almost grasp the thought, the words that were haunting her now.

"Well duh…" Cas rolled her eyes, then tapped against the glass on the height of Robin's ribs. "There's no scar, idiots! As far as I remember, Robin has a rather visible scar on her rib cage, while the reflection doesn't. Isn't that odd? As if the reflection isn't even you."

A wall inside Robin's mind collapsed in that instant, and buried her under the impossible weight of its ashes. Its implications. She could hardly breathe. Paintings… Reflections… Scars… Earrings. A wild rush of adrenaline. Panic. She felt sick as soon as she finally understood.

"Robin, are you alright? You look terrible again… Did we say something wrong?" Jorien inquired instead of reacting to Cas' explanation, and half a second later both girls were gazing at her in concern. Robin had no capacity left to care that she worried them. She had no capacity for anything outside of her own mind.

"I need to get back to the castle. Now." She said in a quiet voice, staring at her own eyes in the mirror for just a moment longer before spinning on her heels and making for the shop's exit. Every cell in her body stood on edge, every emotion locked away behind the thickest walls she could muster up to cope with reality. Right now, she only needed reason, as much of it as she could get. And in a spurt of just that she looked over her shoulder at the two confused girls once more before she reached the door. "I'm sorry, I just remembered something very important that I have forgotten about for far too long. Do go on shopping without me though, and be sure to tell me all about it at dinner, yes?"

Then, without waiting for an answer, she was out of the door and on her way back to the castle. Her lungs hurt, heart racing, head spinning, and her eyes stung terribly from both the wind and unshed tears of raw anxiety. Perhaps it was only the shock of realisation hitting her, or perhaps she was really quite so scared. She didn't know if she hoped to be right or wrong in the unnerving suspicion that had fallen upon her like the darkest of night. Because frankly, either way would end in a nightmare.

______________________________

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cheemerthelizard · 4 years

Note

May I request Jonathan, Jotaro, and Dio headcannons with their girlfriend? She used to not really get along with her mother, and used to get into really bad arguments, occasionally getting physical, and she would just end up forgiving her mother for everything she does right after she does it, and therefore forgives everyone who does her wrong. Whenever someone gets upset and even slightly moves she flinches, and is completely confused when someone apologizes to her.

No lie, I woke up at four in the morning, saw this in my inbox, and worked on it until eight thirty. Sometimes I can write a thousand words a minute, sometimes I can barely think of a storyline, who knows what’ll happen? To those of you waiting on yours to be done, I am working on them I promise.

Jonathan:

-You and Jojo were going into Ogre Street to find the apocrathy that sold Dio’s replacement “medicine” for Jojo’s father, when someone (not Speedwagon) comes and jumps the two of you.

-Of course, this is 1800’s England, so he jumps the girl first, since he assumes she can’t fight back.

-That was a grave mistake.

-When Jojo punched the criminal in the stomach, he started begging for mercy and apologizing profusely.

-“It’s okay, Jojo, just let him go.”

-Jojo was very confused. He hadn’t even gotten your stuff back.

-“He said he was sorry, so I forgive him. Let him go.”

-When the whole fiasco with the man who jumped you made Jojo realise that you must have been given a false perspective of when someone is actually sorry, and how much they should repent for their actions. He still made sure that any stolen belongings were returned, and then tried talking to you about realizing how sorry someone really is.

-“You see, that man was only apologizing to get out of trouble. He wasn’t sorry that it happened; he was sorry that he got caught.”

-When the two of you eventually do come across Speedwagon, Jojo decides to use him as a good example of when to forgive someone.

-“See? That man was truly sorry for his actions. He made sure that none of the other men harmed us, because he wanted to repay us for his wrongdoings. That’s when you can forgive someone.”

-Obviously, it’s going to take more than these two encounters for you to break out of your habit, but that’s okay, because with Dio and his followers, you’ll have plenty of time to figure out.

Jotaro:

-You and Polnareff were cowering in fear over Alessi, who had turned you both into children.

-If it weren’t for Jotaro, both of you would have been killed.

-Once Polnareff was back to an adult, and you your regular age, both men started giving that man what he deserved: a hard beatdown.

-Of course, this made you try and pull both of them away.

-“Stop! Stop! It’s okay! I’m back now, there’s no reason to beat him up!”

-Jotaro was left dumbfounded. How could someone just let that creep get away with something like that?

-He soon realized that somewhere in your childhood, someone treated you wrong, and made you soft.

-Not that softness was a bad thing most of the time, it’s just that… to this degree? Yeah, it was a bad thing to forgive someone so easily after making you a literal child so that you would be easier to kill off and almost getting away with it.

-For that reason, he asks you to punch Alessi, just once.

-Just as he expected, you instantly say no.

-However, he insists that you give him one hard punch, just one. It’ll make you feel better.

-With as much strength as you can muster, and closed eyes, you feel your fist connect to a cheek, and sigh with relief before promptly crying.

-Poor Jotaro doesn’t know how to deal with this, so he just lets Polnareff beat up Alessi while he tries his best to comfort you.

-“I just feel awful for hurting another human being, and I never want to do that again.”

-“Hey, you did good. I’ll bet that punch hurt him at least a little bit.”

-“That’s what I’m so worried about!”

-“Nevermind, nevermind. I think it did next to nothing.”

-“Next to? So you’re saying it still hurt him?”

-Eventually, you calmed down, and Jotaro hugged you tightly, telling you that you deserved much better than for your judgement of a person to be swayed by just one apology that wasn’t even sincere.

-Just like with Jonathan, you’ll have plenty more encounters with Dio’s followers so that you’ll eventually learn not to just give someone mercy on a whim.

Dio (idk if you want part 1 or 3 so I’ll just make one that can work with both):

-One of Dio’s lower subordinates was starting to get jealous of how much attention his master was showing you, when you didn’t even do anything in the first place.

-He was planning on killing you, and making it look like an accident, so he might get some attention for his hard work.

-However, right before he had you in his grasp, you noticed him and screamed.

-It didn’t take long for Dio to find you, backed up against the wall, being cornered by his loyal follower.

-“What do you think you’re doing?!”

-The man froze, shivers sent down his spine from Dio’s voice alone.

-“Do you think, that even for a moment, I would let you even DARE to lay a hand on my (Y/N)?”

-The man gulped, knowing he was in for it.

-In an instant, Dio had his follower in his grasp, draining all of the blood from him.

-This, of course, terrified you.

-“Dio! Stop! I forgive him already! You don’t need to do this!”

-“Darling,” Dio said with a sneer, “he tried to harm you. Anyone who tries to harm you deserves nothing other than the fiery lake of Hell!”

-Once there was no blood left in his subordinate’s body, he turned back to you, breaking down in tears.

-Oh. He did not think this through.

-He decided to hold you in his arms, making you feel better. Thanks to his charisma, whenever he asked about why you were so quick to forgive others, even when they did you so much wrong, you told him everything. About your mother, about how she argued with you all the time, about the times it got physical, and every detail you could remember about the most vivid memories.

-Dio was furious. He asked why you hadn’t asked for him to get your revenge yet.

-“Same reason I begged you to show mercy to that guy.”

-Now Dio got it. You weren’t over it. You would never be over it, so long as you were human, at least.

-That’s it! He thought of the perfect way to help you. He told you to stay where you were, because he had a special surprise for you.

-When he got back, you saw a strange-looking mask in his hands.

-“This is the mask that got rid of my humanity,” Dio explained. “With even just a drop of blood, you can become like me. Then, all of your problems will be gone. Human resolve will always be flawed. I can make you more than what you are. I can let you live forever with me. I can make it so you won’t feel the need to forgive so easily.”

-His words were smooth, and very convincing. With the way he talked, who wouldn’t want to become a vampire? Plus, you did want to overcome this whole forgiveness issue, and you did want to live with Dio forever. You instantly agreed, and Dio gave you a smile.

-“I just want you to know, it hurts at first, okay dear? But the pain quickly subsides, and it’s very much worth it.”

-When you put the mask on your face, Dio cuts open his skin with his long fingernails and uses some of his blood to smear. Just like he said, it hurt at first. The pain was almost unbearable. But, soon after, you felt nothing. No, literally nothing. Not even the floor. You were completely numb, almost as if you were dead. Then, starting from your face, you felt an incredible amount of power seeping through your veins, allowing you to stand back up with ease. You removed the mask from your face, feeling the brush of your new fangs against your lips. He had done it. You were a vampire now. None of your human-like setbacks bothered you anymore, and you had Dio to thank.

-“Now, darling, how about that revenge on your mother?”

-“I’d gladly appreciate it.”

#jonathan joestar #jotaro kujo #dio brando #jonathan joestar x reader #jotaro kujo x reader #dio brando x reader #jjba #jjba x reader #headcanons

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cheemers-writing-archive · 3 years

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Jonathan, Jotaro, and Dio Headcanons for a S/O who forgives too easily

Jonathan:

-You and Jojo were going into Ogre Street to find the apocrathy that sold Dio’s replacement “medicine” for Jojo’s father, when someone (not Speedwagon) comes and jumps the two of you.

-Of course, this is 1800’s England, so he jumps the girl first, since he assumes she can’t fight back.

-That was a grave mistake.

-When Jojo punched the criminal in the stomach, he started begging for mercy and apologizing profusely.

-“It’s okay, Jojo, just let him go.”

-Jojo was very confused. He hadn’t even gotten your stuff back.

-“He said he was sorry, so I forgive him. Let him go.”

-“You see, that man was only apologizing to get out of trouble. He wasn’t sorry that it happened; he was sorry that he got caught.”

-When the two of you eventually do come across Speedwagon, Jojo decides to use him as a good example of when to forgive someone.

-“See? That man was truly sorry for his actions. He made sure that none of the other men harmed us, because he wanted to repay us for his wrongdoings. That’s when you can forgive someone.”

-Obviously, it’s going to take more than these two encounters for you to break out of your habit, but that’s okay, because with Dio and his followers, you’ll have plenty of time to figure out.

Jotaro:

-You and Polnareff were cowering in fear over Alessi, who had turned you both into children.

-If it weren’t for Jotaro, both of you would have been killed.

-Once Polnareff was back to an adult, and you your regular age, both men started giving that man what he deserved: a hard beatdown.

-Of course, this made you try and pull both of them away.

-“Stop! Stop! It’s okay! I’m back now, there’s no reason to beat him up!”

-Jotaro was left dumbfounded. How could someone just let that creep get away with something like that?

-He soon realized that somewhere in your childhood, someone treated you wrong, and made you soft.

-Not that softness was a bad thing most of the time, it’s just that… to this degree? Yeah, it was a bad thing to forgive someone so easily after making you a literal so that you would be easier to kill off and almost getting away with it.

-For that reason, he asks you to punch Alessi, just once.

-Just as he expected, you instantly say no.

-However, he insists that you give him one hard punch, just one. It’ll make you feel better.

-With as much strength as you can muster, and closed eyes, you feel your fist connect to a cheek, and sigh with relief before promptly crying.

-Poor Jotaro doesn’t know how to deal with this, so he just lets Polnareff beat up Alessi while he tries his best to comfort you.

-“I just feel awful for hurting another human being, and I never want to do that again.”

-“Hey, you did good. I’ll bet that punch hurt him at least a little bit.”

-“That’s what I’m so worried about!”

-“Nevermind, nevermind. I think it did next to nothing.”

-“Next to? So you’re saying it still hurt him?”

-Eventually, you calmed down, and Jotaro hugged you tightly, telling you that you deserved much better than for your judgement of a person to be swayed by just one apology that wasn’t even sincere.

-Just like with Jonathan, you’ll have plenty more encounters with Dio’s followers so that you’ll eventually learn not to just give someone mercy on a whim.

Dio (idk if you want part 1 or 3 so I’ll just make one that can work with both):

-One of Dio’s lower subordinates was starting to get jealous of how much attention his master was showing you, when you didn’t even do anything in the first place.

-He was planning on killing you, and making it look like an accident, so he might get some attention for his hard work.

-However, right before he had you in his grasp, you noticed him and screamed.

-It didn’t take long for Dio to find you, backed up against the wall, being cornered by his loyal follower.

-“What do you think you’re doing?!”

-The man froze, shivers sent down his spine from Dio’s voice alone.

-“Do you think, that even for a moment, I would let you even DARE to lay a hand on my (Y/N)?”

-The man gulped, knowing he was in for it.

-In an instant, Dio had his follower in his grasp, draining all of the blood from him.

-This, of course, terrified you.

-“Dio! Stop! I forgive him already! You don’t need to do this!”

-“Darling,” Dio said with a sneer, “he tried to harm you. Anyone who tries to harm you deserves nothing other than the fiery lake of Hell!”

-Once there was no blood left in his subordinate’s body, he turned back to you, breaking down in tears.

-Oh. He did not think this through.

-Dio was furious. He asked why you hadn’t asked for him to get your revenge yet.

-“Same reason I begged you to show mercy to that guy.”

-Now Dio got it. You weren’t over it. You would never be over it, so long as you were human, at least.

-That’s it! He thought of the perfect way to help you. He told you to stay where you were, because he had a special surprise for you.

-When he got back, you saw a strange-looking mask in his hands.

-“I just want you to know, it hurts at first, okay dear? But the pain quickly subsides, and it’s very much worth it.”

-“Now, darling, how about that revenge on your mother?”

-“I’d gladly appreciate it.”

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certifiedskywalker · 5 years

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Academic Misgivings (Part Eight) - Peter Parker

You and Peter Parker aren’t friends, but you’re not entirely enemies either. You don’t like him but he always tries to be nice to you. He has everything you’ve ever wanted and you’ll do anything to show him that you can make it on your own. But can you?

Peter Parker and Y/N are closer than ever before. Maybe too close? Peter doesn’t seem to think so, but what happens when things get too real?

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR /PART FIVE / PART SIX / PART SEVEN

“Hello students of Midtown High and good morning. Today I will be handing the horn to our very own Betty Brant for a special announcement,” the voice of principal Davis was crackly over the intercom, but the words were clear enough that your stomach filled with a sense of mild dread. You sent a look to MJ who, sitting across the row from you, already had an unamused expression on her presently annoyed features.

“Thank you, principal Davis,” Betty’s overly chipper attitude took over. “Fellow students and esteemed faculty…”

You glanced at MJ who ran a finger around her neck in a knife-like motion and stuck out her tongue. The laugh you stifled didn’t catch Ms. Lauren’s attention as the English teacher was intently listening. MJ shook her head and frowned as Betty continued.

“...the Student Council is proud to announce the date of this year’s Winter Formal. To give you all a chance to raise funds to your heart’s content, the dance has been pushed to Tuesday night at six! There you can enjoy a Winter Wonderland and refreshments from our very own Culinary Club! Tickets will be sold at lunch today and Monday! Be there or be square!”

“Jesus Christ,” MJ muttered, her eyes rolling back at the cliche saying. “She does know that she’s a square right, by definition?” You snickered at MJ’s comment which drew the attention of Ms. Lauren. The kindness she had held on the trip to Chicago faded in the moment as she glared in your direction.

“Thank you for listening and have a fantastic Friday!” Betty’s sign off was a welcomed relief. MJ leaned back in her chair and sighed dramatically. Her curls spilled over the chair’s top, giving her an all the more chilled-out look.

“Alright class, you heard Ms. Brant! The dance! However, don’t let that distract you from your homework. Pages one hundred sixty through two hundred of The Great Gatsby are due by Monday, but today, find a partner and discuss the chapters you read for this week.”

The class quickly became alive with the chatter of everything but the book and the squeaking of desks against the linoleum floor as your peers moved to face their partners. MJ simply moved from her desk to the empty one behind you. Her long limbs knocked against the metal legs of the seat as you turned to face her.

“So….”

“So what do you think about Nick’s perspective of Gatsby’s affair with Daisy? Is Fitzgerald making a commentary about how New Money has a sinful way of getting what they want?”

“Nah, I just think he’s gay for Gatsby,” MJ drawled nonchantly. Her fingers played with the worn edges of her book, not registering you slight shock.

“Wha...what..I...Whoa, maybe,” you pondered, glancing through your annotations.

“Yeah,” MJ sighed, “so are you going to the dance?”

“You mean the ‘mating ritual’,” you fired back. The corner of MJ’s lips quirked upwards just a sliver enough to make you proud. “I don’t think so, no one has asked me.”

“You don’t need to be asked. Don’t be another victim to this patriarchal society that demands ones worth to be quantified in proposals and admirers.” You raised a brow at her and MJ leaned back. “Just sayin’.”

“Yeah, okay…” You turned back to your book and tried to think of ways you could incorporate your remaining discussion questions.The ones that had pestered you in the night when you were much too excited to sleep. You weren’t sure if it was the pumping adrenaline lingering in your veins from the near crash or speaking to Spiderman.

“You and Peter seem...close….” MJ said suddenly, his low voice derailing your train of thought. “Tutoring ...right?”

“Y-Yeah,” you felt your cheeks heat up at the observation, “tutoring.” You threw your attention back into the novel, tried to immerse yourself in Gatsby’s longing, his pain, his confusion. Only you realized you were trapped in your own.

“And that’s all?” You breath caught in your throat and your wide eyes lifted to met MJ’s gaze. Her brown eyes, always curious, read over your features. Not in the same manner you had grown used to with Peter. MJ’s look was more calculating, a doctor’s eyes scanning over a chart to find a puzzling prognosis.

“That’s n-”

“Alright class, since discussion time has turned into social time, we’re going to have a silent reading day!” Ms. Lauren shouted from over the din of the classroom. Quiet fell over each student while you were flooded with a sense of relief. You turned away from MJ and buried your nose between the pages of the book. Despite the inadvertent rescue, you could still feel MJ’s eyes on the back of your head.

In the hopes of relieving some nervous energy, you glanced up at the clock that was hung on the wall that was decorated with quotes from classical authors. Another thirty minutes until second period. This first class was going to be a long one.

By sheer luck, you had managed to escape your English class without another question from MJ. For the rest of the day however, you were paranoid. You glanced around each corner, darted by every classroom door swiftly, and never once dared to use the toilet. You had managed to evade the curious girl up until the end of the day. Up until practice.

As Mr. Harrington fired through questions, you couldn’t help but notice the squinted gaze of MJ watching, like a hawk, you and Peter. Her inference was only supported by the fact that Peter had sat himself at your side and would whisper witty answers in your ear before the other team even thought to raise their hand.

Such a close proximity to him would have had you in a mess of grins but now you were much too caught up in MJ’s prying eyes. The distraction she caused you was so immense that you barely answered a single question during practice. Something that did not go unnoticed.

“Hey, are you okay?” Peter’s voice was lost in a whisper when you picked it up. “Did something happen last night? You look tired.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you replied. You didn’t dare to look at him and kept your eyes on Mr. Harrington, waiting for another question.

“You’re sure? You’re quiet...is it about Spiderman?” At the mention of the superhero you locked eyes with the boy beside you.

“No, I...I’m just tired. I..didn’t sleep well last night.” Peter frowned at your words and nodded although you could see that he wasn’t satisfied. You had left the part about you almost dying, the elephant in your chest that had hardly moved since you saw headlights too close for comfort. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’m okay.”

Mr. Harrington asked another question as Peter replied, masking whatever he had said under a question about a species of rhinoceros. You glanced up at Peter, met his eyes for a split second and saw a sincerity that scared you. While the sentiment he had shared with you had never graced your ear, you were certain it was kind. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a half-smile and you returned the expression before you turned back to Mr. Harrington.

“Alright team,” Mr. Harrington sighed, “I have to get home. My mom wants me to feed the cats before I go to the sowing circle so ...”

“Ahem,” Betty grumbled and Mr. Harrington’s fearful brown eyes glanced her way. His mouth formed an ‘o’ of realization before he piped up again.

“Oh and don’t forget fundraising for the dance, woo, right? You guys should all go. I wish I would have gone to my high school’s dances...” He fell into a silent, distant stare one that, if you weren’t already on edge, would have creeped you out.

“Yes, please do come to the dance!” Betty chirped. You spared a quick glance at MJ and saw her attention had been averted by the blonde’s perkiness for the time being. While she was distracted, you stood and began to pack up your papers. Peter, ready for your tutoring session, mirrored your actions. Before you could tell him to wait or make some excuse for why you couldn’t help him this evening, someone tapped your shoulder.

“Yo, Y/N,” Flash’s voice overrode every sense of dread and replaced that feeling with an entirely new brand of horror. “You wanna come to the dance with me? My dad recently gave me back the keys to hi-my car.”

“Oh, uh, sorry Flash,” you mumbled as you brain searched for any, literally any, way out of this situation. You glanced around, panicked.

“You don’t want to come? Why no-”

“I’m actually going with Peter.” It felt as if the entire team had gone quiet. If the librarian were to drop a pin on the carpeted floor, it still would have made a bigger sound out of the silence that surrounded you now. MJ’s eyes were trained on you, missiles of interest targeted your chest alongside her endless questions. Too self-conscious to look in her direction any longer, you turned to face Peter with a pleading expression.

“Y-Yeah, she is,” Peter stammered, playing along. You peered back at Flash and saw a mischievous look on her features.

“Oh, I see,” the dark haired boy winked at you, “you’re taking a step down the social ladder to help Peter up. How valiant, how worthless.” With a sassy spin, Flash made his way towards the door to the library. The silence died out, turned back to the idle chatter that seemed to haunt the decathlon team.

Now it was you and Peter that were quiet as you threw your bags over your shoulders and headed towards the exit. Tension bubbled, fizzled between you with boiling, unasked questions. Just as Peter opened the door, he locked eyes with you.

“So we’re going to the dance?” You stepped out before him which hide the burning in your cheek perfectly, if only for a moment until Peter was back at your side.

“Oh, well uh, it was only a cover really,” you explained in a rush. Peter stood in the hallway arms crossed over his chest as you spoke. There was a frown on his face, disheartened worry in his furrowed brow.

“Oh, well, okay, I jus’....nevermind.”

“But...I mean, we might want to corroborate the story. Maybe for like an hour.” Your suggestion was enough to bring that familiar half-smile to Peter’s lips.

“I mean, it’s probably for the best, right? So his pride isn’t too wounded ...” Peter’s muttering made you smile brightly.

“Y-Yeah, for the best,” you echoed. Peter met your gaze, lips parted and you felt that there was something about the words that had you hanging on the edge of your seat. You took a step closer to him and he took one closer to you until ...bing, bing, ping, pong, bing.

“Oh, crap, uh, hold on,” Peter scrambled to find which pocket his phone was in. When he did and noticed the caller ID, his eyes widened. “Oh, I gotta take this. It’ll only take a sec!”

“Okay, I’ll wait here!” You watched as he turned the nearest corner and disappeared. Your heart, still hammering from the scene before, was final settled. The wall made a good resting place as you leaned against it, not truly caring about what could be crunched in your book bag. A sense of peace, respite, came over you and you closed your eyes.

The sensation passed though at the sound of door shutting loudly. When you peeled open your eyes, you gasped. Flash. He stood before you with a grin, one he must have considered to be devilish while you thought of him as, surely, fiend-like.

“So, you’re in,” he simpered, “you’re all in. You get his passcode yet?”

“Ha, no, I want out.” You snapped in a whisper. Wherever Peter had gone, the last thing you wanted was for him to over hear this.

“What?” Flash’s thick brows knitted together in confusion and you groaned.

“I don’t want to play a part in this play any more,” you whisper-yelled. “It’s a stupid plan and I would rather tutor Peter than know I’m working to help you.” Flash rested a hand to his chest, mouth agape, and features riddled with offense.

“You’re going to regret this, Y/N, believe me,” Flashed warned with dark eyes. “He may be your friend now but...he won’t stick around. As soon as something or someone better comes around, he’s gone.” You were about to bite back, tell Flash that he was wrong, but you couldn’t. You weren’t sure, you didn’t know.

Flash let out a small breath of a laugh before he turned back down the hall. You watched him go and worried your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought. Maybe Flash was right, maybe whatever was happening between you and Peter would end and end quickly. Perhaps your idea of him, the arrogant boy-genius, was just below the surface of what he was showing you. Despite that fear, you had official placed your bet that Peter was worth it; he was worth getting hurt.

You stood idle in the hallway and waited for Peter to return. No longer did that fleeting sense of peace wrap its arms around you snug, not when Flash’s words still rattled in your skull. There was no escaping your own thoughts, not when you prided yourself on thinking. In a vain attempt to silence your worries, you leaned your head back against the cool surface of the wall. Your eyes closed and you tried your best to think of only darkness.

“Hey, Y/N? You okay?” Peter’s voice pulled you back to the present. Your eyes peeled open and you met his warm brown eyes. “Sorry that the call took so long.”

“It’s alright,” you mumbled and started to walk towards the school’s front door. The sound of Peter’s foot falls echoed behind you, worked to catch up.

“Okay, but are you alright?” Peter asked as soon as he fell into step at your side. You didn’t let yourself seek a glance at him, you didn’t dare. Instead, you kept walking and pushed open the doors to the school. Cold air hit you as you stepped outside, coaxing an immediate shiver from your body.“Here.”

Just as you opened your mouth to protest, crack a joke about how it was a bad day to forget your sweatshirt, Peter handed you his blue jacket.

“I can’t.”

“What? Don’t be silly Y/N, you’re shaking. It’s okay, I’m pretty warm so,” he gestured again for your to take it. With a tired frown you took the jacket from him and walked over to the nearest bench to set your backpack down. Peter followed you, watched you as you shoved your arms through much too-big sleeves.

“You have orangutan arms,” you teased, although you said it with a straight face. Peter smiled and you saw his cheeks turn a wonderful shade of pink.

“You just have shrimp arms,” he fired back and you felt the coil in your chest as it loosened. No longer were you burning with worry. No, now you were sedated by the high of being with him again. You smiled softly and nodded.

“Okay, so coffee shop and study?” You only nodded in reply as you shrugged your bag back on over your now jacket-clad shoulders. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine Pete,” you sighed as you walked. You glanced at Peter and saw that his brown eyes were glued to you. “More than fine.”

He smiled and tore his eyes away as you both made your way to the coffee shop. The Friday crowd sat outside of restaurants where they sipped leisurely at drinks and chatted about weekend plans. You couldn’t remember the last time you had plans on a weekend. Or the last time you wanted to do anything on a weekend.

Now you had people you wouldn’t mind making weekend plans with. You snuck a glance up at Peter and saw how his russet hair bounced with each step, the movement that almost distracted from the soft smile on his thin lips. Weekend plans with Peter….you tried to imagine what that could be and before long, your mind was lost in a world that didn’t exist.

A world where you both were older, more mature, with the trauma of high school left behind. Tucked under the covers and further tucked away from the city in a small apartment of your very own; something you and Peter share, together. Sleeping rainy days away, the smell of baked goods from the bakery downstairs. Chocolate chips just as melted at Peter’s soft eyes.

“Y/N?” A pair of fingers snapped before your eyes and broke you out of your trance.

“What?” Your eyes trailed over to Peter’s and you felt your skin heat up under his gaze.

“We can cross now,” Peter pointed across the street towards the coffee shop. Your eyes widened in realization and you followed Peter as he strode through the crosswalk. With a bit of effort, you kept up with him and soon found yourself at the door of the cafe.

“I’m having deja vu,” you commented as Peter opened the door for you.

“I bet, how long were you in here yesterday?” You smiled at him over your shoulder.

“Too long.” You walked up to the counter as you hungered for the steaming peach-ginger tea the cashier had recommended to you. Peter stood at your side and eyed the ‘specials’ menu with wonder. After a moment of waiting, the same, pink-haired girl from the day before came up to you with a beaming smile.

“You again! You want to try another weird scone?” You laughed and shook your head.

“I’m okay, thank you though, but I would like the tea you told me about again.” She rang up your order and you paid. As you stepped to the side to let other customers place their order, you felt someone tug on the sleeve of Peter’s jacket.

“You tried something new,” Peter gushed with a grin so bright it could rival the stars. “That’s amazing, you’re amazing!” You felt an intense heat rise to your face at the compliment and the sweet tone of Peter’s voice.

“It’s just a pastry, Pete,” you gulped. Nervously, you glanced around the coffee shop and half expected MJ to be watching the two of you.

“It’s also a step in the right direction, Y/N! Don’t sell yourself short, c’mon now!”

“Alright, alright, just,” you let your eyes dance around the room again, “not so loud.” Peter grinned, the kind that brought little crinkles by his eyes. While his expression held your attention, you nearly jumped when you felt him squeeze your hand.

“I’ll get us some seats while you wait for your tea,” he hummed and you felt his hand slip from yours. The moment his touch faded from your senses, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming. Tutoring, you repeated the word in your brain in big, bold letters, just tutoring. That was all you could allow yourself in the moment.

Luckily, the barista came up to you with a smile and your steaming cup of tea. You took it from her with a ‘thank you’ and a smile before you stopped at the cart full of brewing supplies. Creamer, stirrers, and an array of sugar substitutes sat on the wooden surface seemingly just to overwhelm you. You simply grabbed a packet of sugar and searched for wherever Peter had found for you both to sit. From the few yards between the two of you, Peter looked breathtaking.

Sunlight that filtered through the window beside him shone down, a natural spotlight drawn to his own internal brilliance. Brown tresses styled atop his head gleamed in an amber sheen and you imagined that his eyes were flecked with gold under the glare. Either way, he was a sight to behold; especially when he smiled as you approached.

“Hi.” Feather soft, his voice tickled every fiber of your being.

“Hi,” you replied and wondered if Peter had felt the same tingle. “Are you ready to study?”

“Um, yeah, yeah,” Peter’s eyes widened slightly as you slipped your bag off of your shoulders. You sat across from him and felt your knees knock against his own.

“So what questions do you-”

“We don’t have to go to the dance,” Peter gushed. The floodgates of his mouth had opened and let every worry had he held inside exposed. Did he not want to go with you?

It had been a spur of the moment proposition, one made more to carry on a lie to Flash than anything else. However, when Peter had pressed earlier, asked if you truly wanted to go with him, you had entertained the thought. The image of Peter dressed up, a suit jacket over his shoulders made you want to curl into yourself until you ceased to exist. It was simply too much to handle, or in this case, too good to be true.

“Oh, well, if you don’t want to go, yeah. I just didn’t want to go with Flash, you get that right?” You felt your cheeks burning. Of course he didn’t want to go with you, you had only come to know each other better by fluke, by academics.

“No I-I-”

“Thanks for playing along. Flash, like I said, is the wors-”

“Y/N.” Peter’s hand reached across the table before you even had a chance to react. Like threads tying you in place, Peter’s fingers wrapped around yours and in that new warmth you found comfort in the silence. “I want to go ...with you.”

“O-oh so...uh…” Peter ducked his head slightly until his brown eyes were all you saw.

“I just wanted to be sure that you wanted to go ...with me,” Peter explained. The cafe around you muddled together at the edges of your vision. The deep blue of the walls and dark oak floors blended, clouded around Peter like an abstract painting. Only the artist’s muse was yours and sat before you in a red sweater that only served to deepen his rosy cheeks.

“I want to,” you whispered breathlessly. You had never been so nervous before. No exam or decathlon meet had made your heart hammer in your chest like Peter. It didn’t help that he stilled looked at you, studied you with the same care of a scientist with a unique species of flower. Peter followed your eye line and you heard a little gasp escape his parted lips.

“Sorry, jus’ uh ...yeah. Cool. We both want to go. C-cool.” As he spoke, Peter pulled his hand back as if he had been holding a hot coal. “So questions right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reached into your bag and pulled out your textbook.

Hoping to diffuse the tension, you flipped idly through the text. Your fingers danced along the corners of each page as you looked for one that covered an interesting topic. At least, that was what you hoped Peter thought you were doing. The cogs in your own mind worked, pieced together theories, hypothesis, on how to bypass the awkwardness.

“I mean if you want to, we could fundraise instead?” Your suggestion was enough to pull Peter’s eyes back to you. Although you only looked at him for a second before you pretended to peer into the textbook before you.

“I-I got it. The fundraising I mean. I handled it.”

“You...handled it?” With a quirked brow you spared a glance at Peter. Sunrise pink coated his pale cheeks and he let out a nervous laugh through his teeth.

“I...Mr. Stark donated…”

“He donated to a dance?” Peter scratched the back of his neck and nodded.

“To that and to add on to the science wing of the school…”

“Wow,” you let out a sigh, “that’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, he’s really cool,” before you could agree, Peter’s mouth dropped wide. “Oh and I told him about you and…” He reached down and you heard the scuffling of a backpack then the sharp sound of a zipper.

“What are you…” Peter reached across the table again but instead of holding your hand once more, between his fingers he held a red card. Repeated series of three embossed lines on the smooth paper surface shone in the sun with a silver sheen.

“After first semester I-I had to take a few hours off of my uh, internship...stuff..so there’s a position open, if you want it.” His voice echoed as you traced the tip of your finger along the edge of the card. Once your brain had unscrambled the words Peter had said from the jumble of shock in your head you looked up at him. His elbows rested on the table and he chin leaned on the palms of his hands as he studied you expectantly.

“I don’t know what to say...Pete..this is…”

“He said the floor was going to be open Saturday, tomorrow at like six, if you wanted a tour.” You held Peter’s gaze and you could feel your lips moving but not a sound slipped out. It felt as if you had been thrown out of your own body. Everything you wanted, the chance to be more, to be better was between your fingers. All thanks to Peter Parker.

“If...would you be there?”

“Be there where?” Peter’s brows furrowed and his hands dropped to the table with a slight ‘knock’.

“On the tour, if I go tomorrow.” The silence that followed after your question was hard to swallow. Although it seemed Peter had a harder time chewing on your words.

“I-I, maybe. I had plans, swinging around the city just-”

“Walking dogs?”

“What?” Peter squinted his eyes at you and you frowned.

“You told me you walk dogs sometimes…” Peter’s eyes lit up and his cheeks turned soft shades of crimson.

“Oh yeah but uh no, not tomorrow. Why? Do you want me to go with?” You nodded and let your gaze fall back to the card in your hand. Tony Stark, Iron Man, knows that you exist and, thanks to Peter, offered you the opportunity of a lifetime. So why were you hesitating?

“I would just feel better if you went. You know your way around, plus if I run into Spiderman it won’t be awkward…”

Peter coughed, as if the air in his throat had tired to turn against him. “What, why,” another cough, “why would it be awkward?” “Well...last night when I said I saw him...he-”

“Saved you?” You closed your mouth and nodded.

“From getting hit by a car,” you explained, although Peter’s calm demeanor didn’t falter. The softness of his eyes hid any sense of surprise he wore, if any. “It’s just embarrassing really.”

“No, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay, so it’s okay,” Peter said comfortingly. You imagined he had learned the gentle tone from May or maybe even his parents before hand. When you finally met his eyes, after hiding the evidence of your shame, you saw only kindness.

Despite the fact that you had removed yourself from Flash and his scheme, the innocence of Peter’s expression sent a stab of guilt through your chest. Some hint of that internal regret must have seeped through to your features because Peter’s face fell. You felt his knees knock against yours under the table as he shifted in his seat, although his eyes never left yours.

“W-What’s wrong?”

“You...you’re so good, Peter,” you murmured, “you so...nice.” You felt a stinging behind your eyes that you tired to fight back.

“I just...Y/N,” Peter said softly, “I-I li...you’re good too. You just need to see that. So if that means the Stark Internship, do it. If that means just adventuring a block out of your bubble, do it. I’ll be there either way.” You felt and smile gather up on your lips, one there was no hope in hiding.

“Thank you, Peter,” you breathed and silently prayed that he wouldn’t read into the sniffles. You dabbed your eyes with the dark blue sleeve of Peter’s jacket before sighing. “So...the Stark Internship?”

“Oh, yeah, like I said, Tony said at six they’re doing a seminar. I can cancel my plans and go with you.”

“Peter you don’t have to-

“I want to,” he said coolly, in a way that made you feel ...safe? Was that the word for it? You hadn’t felt the strange warmth since Spider-Man. And even then, it was nothing to how secure you had felt before aliens spilled out of a portal above the city. Your family had lost everything that day and you had lost a piece of family, of that feeling.

“Okay,” you replied and, sensing the atmosphere around your own little world had thickened, Peter cleared his throat.

“But uh, I can come by your place at four and we can make our way there. W-we should get there in time.” You nodded along with his suggestion, followed the cadence of his voice until you felt swaddled in it.

“Alright, that sounds good.” Peter let a boyish, charming grin take over his features and you felt your skin warm at the sight. The need to talk to him, like how you had longed to after the near car-crash last night washed over you.

Before it could drown you, you surfaced back in the present. There would be time to tell Peter how you felt once you, yourself, felt comfortable.

“Okay so, decathlon questions,” you said and turned your attention back to the text on the table.

“Right, decathlon questions,” Peter repeated as he ducked his head to look in his own notebook. You caught a glimpse of his rosy cheeks before he busied himself. A half-smile pulled its way to your lips and you sighed.

I’ll be there either way. Peter’s words echoed in your mind and felt the smile on your face widen. There would be time. You would make time if you had to, but you felt your bones ache at the thought of waiting to tell Peter how you felt.

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yetanotherramblingfangirl · 4 years

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11, 62 and Hackle, please?

After a particularly difficult school year due in large part to the actions of her next door neighbor, Ada takes a month-long vacation.

Ada returns from her vacation to find out the house next door has been sold. She hopes the new neighbors will be much more pleasant than the Hallows. She’s just relieved that she’s no longer living next door to her biggest PITA parent. Cue a very long celebratory phone call to Gwen Bat celebrating this fact.

“They moved.” Ada said by way of greeting when Gwen

“What?”

“The Hallows. I just saw the ‘Sold’ sign in front of their house. They’ve moved!”

“Do you think they’ve moved out of district?” Gwen asked, her voice hesitant but very clearly hopeful.

“I definitely hope so. I’ll miss the girls, even Ethel despite all the shenanigans she got into, but if I never have to deal with Ursula again it will be too soon.”

“Is it wrong that ‘Ding Dong! the Witch Is Dead!’ is all I can hear right now?”

“No. I had the same thought.”

“At the very least there’s an escape from her now, even if the girls are still attending.”

“Thank god for that.”

Ada goes about the remainder of her summer holiday wondering about who is moving into the house next door. Will it be another family with children? A newly married couple thinking about having children? An older couple moving to be closer to their grandchildren? Despite the fact that she is a single middle-aged woman living alone in a house with much the same floor plan, it doesn’t occur to her to think that her new neighbor might be a single woman.

Ada meets her new neighbor when the second of two moving trucks blocks her driveway and she cannot get out to go to work. She goes to find someone to ask about moving the truck for just a moment and meets her new neighbor.

“Excuse me. I’m so sorry to bother you, but that truck is blocking my driveway and I need to leave for work.”

“I’ll speak to the driver.”

“Thank you.”

It’s not a meet-cute, but Ada would be lying to herself if she didn’t at least admit to having noticed how attractive the other woman was. She dismisses the thought and goes on to a wonderful first day of the new term.

Ada and her new neighbor wave and say hello to one another if they happen to run into one another on the way to put out the bins or if they both happen to be in their back gardens at the same time, but neither makes a concerted effort to get to know the other in any sort of meaningful way.

Things change when Hecate comes to Ada for help finding her lost cat. Hecate is apologetic, but she is also quite clearly upset over the thought that something negative might befall the Russian Blue in the pictures Hecate flicks through.

“Morgana doesn’t usually wander out of the garden. But she’s getting older and her eyesight isn’t what it used to be.”

“It’s alright. We’ll find her and everything will be alright.”

Ada spends several hours helping Hecate go around the neighborhood in search of her cat. They eventually find her hiding underneath a car two streets over. Hecate is incredibly relieved. She invites Ada over for a glass of wine to celebrate their success. The invitation is stilted and slightly awkward, but Ada can tell that Hecate is sincere. She just isn’t well-practiced in issuing invitations. She accepts and thus begins a tentative friendship.

Over time, Ada and Hecate get to know one another better through a series of quiet nights in the garden with a glass of wine. They may be very different in temperament and approach, but the pair value the same things and enjoy each other’s company. [I see Hecate as an author of nonfiction science texts for some reason - there could be a plot point where Ada figures out that Hecate has written a book she uses with her students and it could be super cute.] Ada finds herself looking forward to these evenings more and more. They’re a highlight, something purely for herself and her new friend. It’s not until Gwen confronts her about it that Ada really stops to examine why exactly it is that she looks forward to these evenings so much.

“So what’s this Hecate like?”

“What do you mean?”

Gwen raised an eyebrow as she took a bite of her sandwich, staring pointedly at Ada as she chewed. She paused after swallowing, mouth opening and closing again once before she huffed in annoyance. “Ada, how long have we known each other?”

“Longer than either of us would like to admit,” Ada said cautiously, uncomfortable with the direction she could feel

“Exactly, so I know when you’re interested in someone. So what is this Hecate like?”

“What makes you think I’m interested in her?”

“Well, judging by the fact that you’re blushing red as beetroot right now, I’d say the fact that you’ve made plans with her multiple times per week for the past six weeks might be a good indicator.”

Unable to deny to herself [or to Gwen, who has always been more observant than anyone gives her credit for] that she has a burgeoning crush on her newest friend, Ada tries to think of what she should do. She doesn’t know Hecate’s feelings and she doesn’t want to do anything to rock the boat. Is it better to be honest but potentially alienate her new friend or should she keep her feelings to herself and wait? Waiting never hurt anything. When she expresses this opinion to Gwen several weeks later in response to further questioning about her intentions Gwen has some definite thoughts.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Algernon would have never made a move if I hadn’t sped things along,” Gwen said over the rim of her mug before taking a quick sip of scalding tea.

“It took you 25 years!” Ada spluttered.

“You’re clearly catching my drift then.”

Ada is awkward and uncomfortable when she next sees Hecate, something that Hecate immediately picks up on but clearly tries very hard to push to the side. After a series of lengthy pauses and stilted attempts at conversation, Hecate can’t take the tension anymore and broaches the subject of Ada’s uncharacteristic behavior.

“Have I done something to upset you?” Hecate said, fiddling with the stem of her wine glass. She refused to look Ada in the face, body language guarded. She seemed poised to quickly make her way over the short hedge and back into her own sunroom.

“No, why would you think that?”

Hecate ventured a quick glance at Ada’s face, searching for something Ada couldn’t name. “You haven’t been yourself this evening.”

Ada sighed and looked down into her wine glass. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been thinking.”

“About?”

“Just something my friend Gwen said earlier today.”

“Would it help to talk about it?” Hecate said, shifting uncomfortably.

Ada offered a weak smile. “I honestly don’t know.”

Hecate laid her hand gently on Ada’s forearm, startling Ada. “You don’t have to talk about anything that’s making you uncomfortable if you don’t want to, but I will listen.”

Ada patted Hecate’s hand, resisting the urge to hold it in place. She felt the loss of warmth acutely when Hecate removed her hand. “Did you know that it took 25 years for Gwen and her husband to get together?”

“You never mentioned that.”

“I don’t suppose I would have. It’s not something I think much about most of the time if I’m honest. Gwen doesn’t like to talk about it. But she did today.”

“Why?”

“Because she said she wanted to save me from making the same mistakes she did.”

Hecate blinked hard in response. “Oh?”

“She had quite a bit to say about it all, really. ‘How can you know what someone else feels unless you put yourself out there?’ But putting yourself out there is difficult.” Ada took a deep swig from her wine glass, using her wine as an excuse to staunch the flow of words before she said too much.

“Vulnerability is always difficult. But it’s better than missing out on something you want, isn’t it?”

“Do you believe that?”

“I believe it, even if I struggle with it.”

“But you’re so expressive.”

Hecate shifted uncomfortably. “Expressing negative emotions easily doesn’t mean I’m being vulnerable. Most people would argue it’s a shield.”

“Is it?”

A raised eyebrow was her only response.

Ada doesn’t confess anything that evening, much to Gwen’s irritation and Ada’s disappointment with herself. Their most common topic of conversation becomes ‘how you confess you have a crush on your new best friend’. Ada tries to push this topic aside, but Gwen is convinced that honesty is the only way forward and she is not going to let Ada miss out on something that would clearly make her happy. An entire school year is spent trying to convince Ada to take the next step.

In the end it’s Hecate who broaches the subject of romantic feelings. On Bonfire Night, Ada holds a party for her friends from school and the neighborhood. Hecate, uncomfortable with the attentions of one of Ada’s friend’s boyfriend [a seriously creepy dude in the serial womanizer vein], takes Ada’s arm and makes it very clear that her interests lay elsewhere before excusing herself and disappearing into Ada’s house. After talking to her friend about this new dude being a total creep and making sure that he’s left the premises, Ada goes to find Hecate. Hecate has hidden herself in Ada’s study.

“Are you alright?” Ada asked as she quietly closed the door behind her.

“I’m fine,” Hecate said, curling into herself slightly. “I hope you don’t mind my being in here. I just needed a moment.”

Ada sat in the chair beside Hecate’s, reaching her hand out in offering. “That’s perfectly understandable.”

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” Hecate said as she took Ada’s hand and gently squeezed it in recognition of the kind gesture.

“No, I wasn’t embarrassed.”

“Good. I would never want to make you uncomfortable or embarrass you.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, sounds from the party drifting into the room. The silence was tense, slightly uncomfortable and heavy with words unsaid but not once did either of them move to free their hand.

“Did you mean the things you insinuated?” Ada said, voice small and scared but hopeful.

Hecate froze for a moment before sitting up straight and turning to face Ada. “Would it be alright with you if I did?”

“Yes.”

“If I were interested in you, you would be alright with that?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Good.”

Send me a ship and 2 tropes to see how I’d combine them into a story.

#ask meme answers #trope mashups #hackle #so i tried #but i like the idea of ada and hecate just meeting and becoming friends and falling in love from there #because that's the best #i don't know what i'm saying at this point #and i'm sorry this is so long #emiline-northeto

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doubleddenden · 4 years

Text

So pokemon is a bit on thin ice with me due to some shady business practices, but New Snap legitimately has me excited. Silver was my first official game, but SNAP was my FIRST pokemon game. I still remember my sister and family struggling to get pictures of all of those pokemon and trying to figure out how to get to Johto pokemon (it never happened, just baseless school yard rumors).

Anyway, let's look at the rest of the stuff that's been announced

Pokemon Smile: it's strange. I mean it's good for little children and people who struggle to remember to brush their teeth. However this feels awfully suspicious in the same vein Sleep is suspicious. Are they gonna sell your teeth data? Facial recognition? I can't see how micro transactions could apply to this so there's definitely some amount of personal data being gathered and sold here.

Pokemon Cafe: harmless enough, "free to start" seems to be the new business lingo for "pay to win" but whatever. Seems like some spiritual successor to Trozei but like... a lot more swirly. The Pokemon Company really seems to be embracing that Mobile Game lifestyle that Game Freak is so afraid of. Probably not for me but I'm sure there's someone who wants it.

New Pokemon Snap: BRUH ITS BEEN 20 FUCKIN YEARS WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!? I've been begging for a Pokemon Snap 2 since I was a kid! And this isn't a remake either, this is a whole new game with newer pokemon! Aw shit the graphics look wonderful. Honestly I'm mad the REAL games don't look this good. The Wailord is no longer the size of a saint bernard! The water looks so god damn gorgeous! Theres still this weird red glow but eh. I'm just excited for the new scenery. The Torterra! He had pokemon on his back! Ahhhh!!!!

And of course we have the DLC. I bought it, i regret it because I know something will be done wrong, but this could surprise me with a different Director. Whether or not I continue to trust Game Freak rests solely on Tani's direction. Don't fuck this up. Please don't.

June 24th announcement seems a bit awkward. Let's make some predictions:

Pokemon Sleep. Seems likely. We were warned about it a long time ago and still nothing. Just maybe be cautious about it. This has biometric data profits written all over it.

More new games. Possibly a Ranger 4 if they're generous, most likely more pointless app games that will sell your personal data. God I would kill a man for Genius Sonority to come back with Colosseum 3 or Battle Revolution 2 with Home sync up.

Merch: shirts, shorts, skirts, plushies, amiibos, what have you.

Ports: possibly gen 3 ports to the switch, MAYBE COLOSSEUM!!!! But probably not.

Remake: I'm going to say this is not too likely, but Diamond and Pearl remakes, OR Let's Go Johto. Tbh it wouldn't be wise to announce these for this year with the DLC still selling and a second DLC coming in November, not to mention BotW2 that they'd directly have to compete with. But Ultra Sun and Moon were announced around this time last time so hmm. Could also release for March of next year. Out of the two I'd want Diamond and Pearl. But I'm gonna quit pokemon forever if it's some shit like Dyna Sword and Dyna Shield because that's shitty business right there (I don't think they will because of the DLC but you know. Stress.)

I hope TPC isn't putting their employees and affiliates in harm's way during COVID. All of these games are nice but I sincerely hope they're being fair to them too. I hope New Snap has enough dev time and doesn't stress its employees out.

#pokemon

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anxiouslymalicious · 5 years

Text

Until we know.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summary: A continuation of Until the morning comes in which Ben is a little overwhelmed.

Word Count: 2,322

Warnings: anxiety attack based on my own experiences, mentions of sex and nudity, nightmares and bad writing

A/N: Sorry, this has taken longer than I wanted it to, but I just couldn’t write. I literally wrote like 200 words, think it’s crap and start again. And up until last night, I had a different version of this chapter planned, didn’t like it, deleted it and rewrote it which is why I am posting this now, at almost 1am. Anyway, thanks for all the support, I appreciate it a lot and I hope you enjoy it! Oh and the beginning might be confusing, but it’ll make sense later, so PLEASE read through the first paragraphs.

Tags: @mamaskillerqueen @yourealegendroger @lakef

Message me if you want to be tagged in future parts!!

Ben was excited to see you again. You had told him to meet you in favourite café. It had always been one of your favourite places to spend your lunch breaks with Ben as it was quiet and a little secluded from the usually so lively city. The fact that they sold amazing cakes and sandwiches, along with coffee was, of course, a very supporting one.

His heart was beating fast and the butterflies in his stomach were going absolutely crazy. Ben’s hands were sweating profusely, and he kept on licking his dry lips as he stepped into the small shop, the smell of coffee filling his nostrils immediately. Soft music was playing in the background as he was trying to spot you. Ben felt his heart drop when he finally did.

You were not alone.

A man was sitting with you, staring at you lovingly as he held your hands in his. Your perfect lips formed a huge grin and your cheeks were rosy with the blush the man caused you as he whispered something in your ear. Only mere seconds after, you leaned closer to kiss him softly and slowly. Even from where Ben was standing in the entrance, he could feel the sparks flying between you and him. And it broke him.

Ben quickly strode over to your table, the unshed tears in his eyes making it hard for him to see.

“Y/N?”, he asked in a broken voice. His voice sounded foreign, even to himself.

“Oh good, you’re finally here.”, you said, looking mildly annoyed at Ben’s presence.

“What- what- who is that man?”, Ben’s heart was hammering painfully against his ribcage. And, although Ben was quite sure he knew the answer to that question and didn’t feel like he actually wanted to hear it, he still had an ounce of hope left in him. Maybe all of this was just a misunderstanding. A huge, messy misunderstanding.

“Oh, that’s Josh. My fiancé.”, you told Ben, wiggling your ring-clad finger in front of him.

“Fiancé? But what about me? What about us,” Ben couldn’t talk louder than a strained whisper, “I thought we were trying to get together again. I thought you loved me.” Ben was sobbing now. His arms were wrapping around himself and it felt like the whole world was staring him down. Out of nowhere, paparazzi were flooding the café, suffocating him and depriving him of the air to breathe.

“Oh, Benny. I fell out of love with you so long ago. You can consider yourself fortunate that I slept with you last night.”

Ben woke up startled, moving up into a sitting position as he tried to figure out where he was. The room was lightly illuminated by a little sunlight shining through the gaps between the curtains. It must have been dawn. Your body was sprawled out before him, still naked, still here, still breathing.

Ben ran a hand through his slightly greasy locks. His heart was hammering against his chest rapidly and he was on the verge of hyperventilating. His whole body was covered in a cold sweat. He couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Ben was whimpering as he wrapped his own arms around himself, trying to ground himself. His feet were firmly planted on the soft mattress, his back bend. Ben’s head was almost resting on his knees. He was desperate to grasp reality. He needed someone to tell him that it was just a stupid nightmare.

A gentle hand placed itself on Ben’s naked shoulder. He jerked away. Fear was running through his veins. His blood ran cold. His breathing picked up. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Ben?”, you asked softly, but Ben couldn’t hear you. He only heard his blood rushing in his ears. Ben didn’t feel like he was anywhere near you. He felt like he was about to choke. On nothing.

“Ben, can you hear me?”, you tried again, this time succeeding as he made a strained noise. He wasn’t capable of more. Not right now.

“You don’t need to talk, Benny.”, you started, but stopped as Ben whimpered. You were confused but decided to ignore it for now.

“Love, can I hold your hand?”, you didn’t have much of a voice and talking over Ben’s rapid breathing was painful, but you tried your best to push through. You didn’t want to let the man who still owned your heart away.

Ben slowly moved one of his arms from around his torso towards where he thought your voice was coming from. You immediately noticed, grasping his hand with your own, giving him something to hold onto.

“You’re doing so well, love. Now, can you please look at me?”, your ask was answered with a desperate shake of his head, telling you that he couldn’t. You felt a slight pain in your chest at his reply but tried to tell yourself that he was only being irrational in his panicked state.

“Love, I need you to slow your breathing. I know it’s hard right now, but try to breathe with me.”, you told him, breathing in deeply, holding your breath for a bit, before releasing your breath loudly. You squeezed Ben’s hand in sync with your breaths. Gradually, his breathing slowed down. Ben felt the tingly feeling in his fingers subside and felt like he was in the room again. Although he still felt uneasy, he also felt somewhat secure again.

“Y/N/N?”, Ben asked quietly. His throat was dry, his voice raspy.

“Yes, love?”

Ben opened his mouth to say something, but his stomach interrupted him. It was angrily churning and before he could say another word, he threw the covers off himself and ran to the ensuite bathroom. His body dropped in front of the toilet and he just barely managed to lift the lid before he threw up.

You hurried after him as you heard him emptying his stomach and gently caressed his back, trying to somehow comfort him. Ben was panting, his stomach hurting with every heave, his throat burning. Tears ran down his cheeks towards his chin until they finally dropped to the ground.

“It’s alright, my love. Let it all out.”, you whispered as you filled a glass on the bathroom counter with cold water, your hand now on his shoulder to reassure him that you were still there. Once he was only dry heaving, you flushed the toilet for him, held out a wet wash cloth to him and gave him the glass of water once he was done. You lazily threw the washcloth into the sink as you sat in front of Ben. He was still avoiding eye contact.

Suddenly, Ben threw his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible to him and cried. You leaned up to kneel, towering over his cowering form. His face was pressed into your chest. One of your hands was running through his curls in a calming manner as the other arm wrapped around him protectively. Ben was making all kinds of desperate noises as you mumbled sweet nothings to him.

“Thank you, love.”, Ben croaked out.

“There is absolutely no need to thank me.”, you told Ben sincerely. Ben made a move to get up, his legs were too shaky to stand on their own though, and so you stood up with him, holding his arm. He slung his arm around your shoulder as you led him to the bed, sitting him down on the edge.

“How do you feel, love?”, you asked as you kneeled in front of Ben. The rough carpeted floor was harsh on your bare knees, but you couldn’t care less as you rested your hands on his knees, drawing soothing circles on them with your thumbs. You had never seen Ben like this. Not this broken down.

Throughout your relationship there had been days on which Ben was crying, even heavily at times, but you had never witnessed him going into an anxiety attack and it truly shocked you. What had happened to him during the time that you spent without each other?

“Not good.”, Ben replied as he wiped over his eyes to get rid of the remaining tears. He sniffled after letting out a watery chuckle. You gave him a little smile in return.

“Do you want to talk about it?”, you asked him.

“Maybe later. Can I…”, Ben trailed off, biting his lip as though he was not sure if it was appropriate for him to continue. You raised an eyebrow, silently trying to get him to continue.

“Can we cuddle?”, he asked quietly. You grinned before getting up and motioning for him to move over. Ben scooted over a little and opened his arms for you to cuddle up to him. You eagerly complied and snuggled into his warm chest. It felt nice being this close to him. It felt like home.

He felt like home.

You two only lay there for a few minutes until Ben was squirming under you. You had rested your head on his chest, your arm wrapped around his waist, but you felt like something was wrong to him. You pushed your body up to lean on your elbow as you looked into Ben’s face.

“What’s wrong, love?”, you felt like you had asked him that question a million times already that night.

“I just… Please don’t feel like you’re heavy, but I just…”, Ben started, and you could see how his eyes filled with tears once more. You shushed him.

“You feel like you’re suffocating if there is a weight on your chest?”, you asked and received a timid nod.

“Would you feel better if you rested your head on my chest?” a little pause ensued before he nodded. You turned to lie on your back and opened your arms for him. Ben snuggled into your chest and immediately felt at peace. He could hear your steady heartbeat. His head rose with every single breath you took. The gentle scratch of your nails against his scalp felt soothing.

“Close your eyes, Benny.”, you mumbled and felt him tense again for a second. His arm wrapped a little tighter around your waist before he took a couple deep breaths. Once more, you were confused.

“Why don’t you sleep a bit more, I’ll be here when you wake up.”, you whispered and soon felt his breathing even out. You felt yourself drifting off, too and you were desperate for a few more hours of sleep before actually having to get up.

When you woke up again, you felt Ben’s gaze on you. He was staring at you lovingly, but there was something else in his eyes. Something you couldn’t exactly place your finger on.

“I’m scared.”, Ben whispered as he finally looked you in the eye.

“What scares you?”, you asked in return, turning to lie on your side, facing him.

“The thought of losing you to another man. I don’t want to spend another day without you again. In my dream you- “, Ben stopped to take a deep breath, “you were engaged to someone else and it felt so real and it hurt so much, I- “

“There isn’t another man in my life, Ben. Not at the moment.”, you mumbled and sat up, moving the duvet to cover your naked breasts. Ben noticed the shift in the mood.

“What do you mean? Are you leaving me?”, Ben now sat up, too, looking at you worriedly.

“Ben, you have made me leave months ago. You have treated me like shit and suddenly we’re here and we act like you never hurt me in the first place.”

Ben was quiet. A pregnant pause settled between you two as you looked around the room, trying to locate your dress. As Ben remained quiet, looking at his hands in shame, you got out of bed and put on your panties, then your bra before finally moving to put on your dress. Once you were almost done, Ben suddenly spoke up.

“Do you regret anything we did last night?”, he asked, looking you straight in the eyes.

“I don’t think I do.”, you told him.

“I need an actual answer. Yes or no?”

“No. No, I don’t regret what we did. But I’m not sure where we stand right now. Where we are going to take this. Ben, I love you. I truly do. But you hurt me. A lot. And I can’t just pretend that never happened.”, you told him truthfully.

“I know, and I hate myself for causing you pain. The last time I did, I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror for weeks. I barely went outside anymore. My friends had to beat my arse to get me out of bed. Even Frankie noticed I fucked up. She looked at me like I just seriously hurt her. Nothing worked anymore without you. I’m so fucking glad I wasn’t fired for being this unprofessional and unfocussed. The make-up artists literally spent hours on making the circles under my eyes disappear. Even my family beat me up about what I did. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I lost the best thing in my life when I made you go. I love you, Y/N. I always will. I know this is selfish, but I will not stop trying to make it up to you.”, Ben said sincerely. Tears were running from his eyes again. His eyes stung.

You sighed. Tears welled up in your own eyes.

“Please come with me. Have breakfast as friends, you can come home with me as friends and we can talk. Talk until we know.”, Ben continued as you kept quiet.

“Until we know what?”, you asked desperately.

“Until we know where to take this, what to make out of this, how we feel about each other, how I can get you to forgive me, everything you want to know.”

“Okay. Until we know.”

And with that, an extraordinary day started.

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evien-stark · 5 years

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 25 [70%]

You refused medical treatment, as did Tony. But he left you to fend for yourself with the reporters and photographers, asking what happened, what happened? It was clear as day what had happened. Blind spots were opening up in your vision. Probably from the camera bulbs. The only people you had to lean on were Natalie, who was trying hurriedly to shoo everyone away, and Happy who was trying to play the better part of security.

Paramedics asked one last time before you were allowed to even get into a car to go to the airport- how are you? You had no idea how to answer them.

Maybe it’s like a muscle.

Exercising the use of your powers made them stronger- but it also was hurting you. If Tony’s theory was correct. Maybe it really was time to ask Fury what to do about yourself. Your own fate. Because you were suddenly, mostly decidedly, sure that it couldn’t… it just couldn’t be with…

He barely looked at you as the two of you boarded the jet. That was fine. If you started in on him now there was no way you were going to make it the whole way home. It would just be more screaming. Then he disappeared. So you sat in deafening silence until you couldn’t take it any longer and put on the TV. A mistake as it only served to make you angrier and angrier as Senator Stern, all smiles, told the entire world Tony Stark was a liar.

The technology was here. That man had had an Arc Reactor.

How? How could that be? How did that man have that?

You had no answers. So you couldn’t help Tony out- if you had even wanted to. You weren’t sure anymore.

“Mute.” The TV went silent, his voice behind you and you immediately directed your attention out the window. Only briefly letting your eyes shift as he set down a platter on the table and moved to sit himself across from you. Then he lifted the top revealing a very runny but steaming hot omelet. “You need to eat something.”

“I can’t do this with you anymore.”

It came out of you whether you wanted it to or not. It was there now, heavy in the air. And to your own surprise and sadness you meant every word.

He seemed stunned, but only momentarily. “Eat. Please. Then we can talk-”

“No, Tony. We’re talking right now. And this is probably the last time we’re gonna have this talk. Because I can’t anymore. I keep saying I can’t, and then I keep going, expecting you to get it. But you don’t. And I’m done.” Part you wished he had anything to say to cut you off. But he just sat there and took it while your voice lurched and tears slid past your eyelashes.

His burgeoning frown deterred you, for only a few seconds. He looked hurt. Good. “You don’t respect me, you don’t respect whatever this is- and I- I’m starting to think every private moment we have is just you playing make believe with dolls. If you want a different life, then go have it. Leave me out of it. Because I can’t take it anymore.”

You were hurting. Deeply. Cut to the bone. Had his whole plan been to come to Monaco to get in that car? To do what? Drive recklessly down the highway? Or had he known that man was going to be there? And he’d told you none of it, sat across from you not hours ago telling you he loved you- and for what? “You seem like you care one moment and then you rip it all away when it suits you- what- I’m… what do you want from me, Tony?”

“I...”

“If you say I’m sorry one more time I’m going to throw you out of this airplane. And if you say I love you again as a bandaid I’m going to scream-” Your frustrations were at an all time high.

“I’m dying.”

Horror.

Panic.

Mortification.

All doused you heavy like a waterfall.

Oh.

But you’d felt this panic before… only now it was shared.

You couldn’t breathe. “What… what are you even saying right now?” There was no way he’d say something so drastic to get you to be quiet- right? To get you to stay?

“I’m dying.” He said it again, softer, resigned. But his eyes stayed on you.

Your head began to shake. “I don’t… I don’t understand. What do you mean-”

“You want me to say it a third time for good luck? I’m dying.” It actually seemed like he was getting a bit of cathartic release from letting those words go.

“Tony...” There was no way to even begin to process this. Clearly it was a joke. It was a joke, right? He was… dying of thirst. Dying of hunger. Dying of boredom. Anything- anything, please-

Reaching back he pulled his shirt off forward, exposing his chest and all the blown deep blue and purple veins that outlined his angry red skin. Creeping forward from the hole sitting in his chest where the Arc Reactor was, down his stomach and now starting to briefly line the base of his neck.

A gasp shred your lungs. “Oh my god-” Your hands were on your mouth, terrified. Tears were spilling hot down your cheeks. Eyes closing briefly as he leaned forward to wipe a few away with a gentle brush of his fingers. You pushed your hands to your lap. “For how long…?”

How long had he been sick? How long had he hidden this from you? The whole time since he’d gotten back from the Middle East?

“After the mission with General Ross.” He put his shirt back on before reaching out again. His hand came down on top of both of yours, holding steady. You were shivering. The mission where he’d been used to try and kill people recklessly- and when he’d come home-

“How much longer?”

“Eight days. Maybe nine.” It was like you’d been hit by a car. It all made sense. He’d pushed up the Expo. Sold his art gallery. Made you CEO- and this- Quiet… quiet moments where he seemed like he was fading away… “You were right.” He saw your wheels turning, and you caught the sad smile on his face. “You knew.”

“I didn’t know- I didn’t know this-”

“I didn’t want you to. ...This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

“You can’t just not tell me you’re fucking dying, Tony!” Saying this lashed an ache so strong through you that a sob broke free. He was there in an instant, arm around you, head atop yours. You buried your face in the side of his neck. “What is it? I’ll find a doctor- we’ll do something-”

“Palladium poisoning. From the core of the Reactor. There is no cure.” Calm. He was so fucking calm.

You bit back another shudder of a sob, shaking your head lightly. “Then we’ll find something else to sustain the power… we’ll… we’ll run through the elements...” Whining and weeping like a child.

A huff of warm air escaped him. “You’re incredible.” Meant only with every sincere bone he had in his body, awe lacing his tone. “There’s nothing out there. I’ve looked. I’ve tried. I’ve been trying this whole time.”

“Well I wasn’t!” He had given up, dealing with this for so long. You sat half away, reaching up to take hold of the sides of his face. Holding him there. Looking. “You should have just told me- you- we could have been working on this together- we’ll find something- please-”

This couldn’t be it.

He couldn’t just-

“You promised...” Resorting to anything. Childish nonsense. Anything to keep him.

I need you, too, you know. ...but I don’t want you to die. Don’t worry. I’ve got too much to do to die. Promise? I promise. So long as you stick around.

Your breathing had become mere wheezing, overwhelmed with the mere idea that he wasn’t going to be with you in the very near future. Some destructive sickness was going to kill him. Take him away. Forever. Something you truly could not contend with.“...you promised...”

You couldn’t lose him.

He put his hands over yours and leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. “Hey- hey… take a breath… please, just breathe...” You only did so at his behest, but it didn’t help the hiccup, or another leak of tears. “The company is yours. You’ll get everything. You’ll be taken care of-”

“What a shitty thing to say!” Breaking free from him, shaking your head vehemently now. “I don’t want your stuff Tony, I want you!” When he touched his hand back through your hair, still soft and even, you broke down again. Your hands went around his wrist. Holding tight. As if you could just keep him there with you forever. “I need you.”

His arms were around you again and you found yourself crying in his shoulder. He was burning hot, even through his shirt. How had you gone so long without noticing? His tone was even, “Please- please… I know it’s difficult- I’ve had… a lot of time to look- and I know there’s nothing out there- breathe, honey, just breathe...”

It was so hard.

You couldn’t do this.

But eventually you found a pattern of in and out, even though the tears had not stopped. In the wake of your silence he spoke again, “I love you. Let’s just… let’s cancel my birthday party. Let’s turn around. Touch down somewhere in Italy. Genoa? Genoa was great...”

You knew what he was asking.

He was asking to go somewhere and die.

To just be with you in his last few moments.

“No… no...” You couldn’t let him- was that selfish? Maybe it was. Then so be it. You moved again to be able to look at him. “Please just… just give me some time- you’ve had your chance- just give me a few days to look- please- I’m begging you.”

Please don’t give up yet.

Please please

I love you…

That telltale shaky inhale captured him, eyelids fluttering for a moment. “...you’re not playing fair.”

“I didn’t mean it...” You really hadn’t. You were just too emotionally charged to help it. Maybe that’s what it had been the whole time. You uselessly wiped at your eyes. “But this isn’t a game- and please-”

“Okay. Alright. Okay- stop… don’t… don’t beg anymore. I’ll...” He heaved a heavy sigh out. “We’ll go home. But… you have to promise me… you can’t let this destroy you. When you realize there’s nothing out there… you stop. And you come home. And we’ll...”

Spend the last few moments of his life together.

You didn’t want to make that promise. Because it was acknowledging that was the ultimate end to this. In some way. You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t bear the thought.

But you nodded anyway.

“Okay.”

Letting him take you again, you rested your head against his shoulder, arms around his middle. The tears still wouldn’t stop.

“You’ve gotta admit...” He said after a long while, voice distant yet with that soft slyness, “As far as excuses go...”

And damn him all, he pulled a watery smile from you. A terrible, terrible smile. “Shut up.”

You wouldn’t give up. You wouldn’t give up on him.

Never.

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It felt like there was no rest.

The second you touched down, the story of Ivan Vanko- the man who had attacked Tony, the man who had gotten his hands on an Arc Reactor somehow- had tried to escape prison and had died. Was this good news? ...wasn’t it a little convenient? You wondered. Tony had said he needed to do some research on that one. You just trusted him on it, because you literally had no time to do it. No time…

Right on top of that was half the media arguing that Tony’s wild actions of commandeering his own racing vehicle proved he was unfit to protect the country. Proved that he was unfit to be Iron Man. Something many senators were starting to agree on. The other half were hailing him a hero-

Oh, not only him-

There were shots and clips of you standing with your hands up as if you too had something to shoot from them. Woman of Iron, they were calling you (thinking they were clever… yet hadn’t you heard something like that somewhere before…?), and you couldn’t be more disgusted. Who wouldn’t have jumped in to try and do whatever they could in that situation? Tony seemed like he could have been killed.

Iron Man was not invincible.

There was a man in there.

You would have done it again. Easily. If there had been any slightest chance you could save his life… then of course you would.

Which was why you had to ignore all of that. All of the press and the questions and the noise, so that you could try and schedule a meeting with the only people who would have any hope of saving Tony. It had to have been true that Tony was doing his damn best to save his own life. But what if SHIELD had access to things he didn’t? Shouldn’t they? Being a top secret shadow government organization and all.

However, getting in touch with them after everything you’d been through… everything you’d aided Tony in doing that had pissed Fury off… it wasn’t easy. You only had Coulson’s number. And he seemed to not want to answer you. His mailbox was also full. And that warehouse- his offices- whatever they were that he had taken you to the first time, were completely empty now. No good. No use.

You went to Stark Industries that night to put out a fire, department heads arguing with each other over nonsense, before returning home with nothing. Time was running out. Asking Natalie to escort you home, you put her on the phone in the living room as soon as you got into the manor. She had to do work for you now. She had to, because you were running out of everything.

Tony was in the lab. As always. But it was easy to look the other way on it now. When you keyed yourself in, he looked up from his work bench. “Hey.” Raising his hands like you had- the image of you plastered on a few of his screens.

“Very funny.” You were so worn out.

“No- do it- put one up for me.” After everything he’d said he still seemed to be going on like nothing had happened. But then again, he’d been sort of operating that way for a while. Maybe trying to pretend like- ...no, you couldn’t think about it now.

Stopping a few feet away you crossed your arms instead. “Why?” The thought we don’t have time for this was not far off- but… there was nothing more you could do tonight. You’d have to try Coulson again tomorrow. And if he was untraceable- then… then…

Don’t think about it.

“Please.” Gentle.

Despite the roll of your eyes, you did so, in a mockery to yourself and your false bravery you’d displayed that day. “Here- are you happy now?” He picked a small black lump of metal up from the table, pressed a button on the side, and then threw it at you. It latched on to your hand, freaking you out immediately as what felt like slimy wiring slid slid over your skin. “Eugh-! What is this??”

But when it settled it was very clear what it was.

He stood up, unable to help the laugh at your minor distress. Walking behind you, he stilled your hand which had been swinging wildly as if to shake it off like a bug. Then he guided your arm up, his other arm around your waist. “Like this. Spread your fingers out. It’s got a one-time semi-stabilized ionic discharge.” His voice was warm in your ear.

Did the two of you really have time for this?

It settled an unease in your heart. “Why?”

“So that next time you put your hands up, you have a shot to make it out of there.” I’m trying to protect you. His eyes were straight ahead. “Deep breath, then exhale- if you can remember. And push forward. The sensors will do the rest. Here- try and make sure...” The arm around you moved to your legs, widening your stance. “Try to be as grounded as possible… but don’t lock your knees too much...”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your eyes focused on the white lab wall in front of you. Most of you was terrified- the rest delegated to one small part scared for other more pressing reasons. The other… well, in any other circumstance…

“And then what?”

A little huff of warm, amused air caressed the side of your neck. “You pull back and push forward. Go on.”

Trying to get past your discomfort, having a weapon now attached to your hand, you took his words to heart. Planting your feet, arm shaking a little.

“You’re fine. I’ve got you.”

With that settling you slightly, you took a breath in… then out… and then pulled back only to jut your palm forward again. The blast was quick and slightly blinding, smacking against the wall to destroy the paint and shatter some of the brickwork underneath. It also sent you straight back into him with a whoosh from your lungs. But he held you steady, laugh not too far behind. “That’s it. Easy, right?”

You let him settle you on your feet, knees barely there to stand on, and you turned around. “I don’t like that.”

“Yeah well, a full suit would give you optimized stabilization-”

“No.” You’d already told him this a million times before, but it was very important now. You didn’t want his… you didn’t want what could be his last few moments spent building a suit for you…

“Then this is all I’ve got. It works.” Reaching out he turned your palm over. “To take it off you just pull the lining here...” Demonstrating, the glove going slack as he did. You also let him take it off you, cradling your hand to your chest after. “What? Did it burn you?” Nervous suddenly as he crushed it back up into that black ball it had started as.

“No. I’m just… I don’t want weapons.” Adamant about that.

“This is not a weapon, it’s self defense.” Just as adamant back at you. “You tried to stop him, right?” He had turned away, setting the spent glove on the table again. “It’s a little hazy. But I’m pretty sure- JARVIS freeze frame-” Catching the perfect moment still running on TV. You with your hands up. Trying to talk a verified villain into surrendering. “Right there.” Pointing up.

You just shrugged, feeling intimidated for some reason. Small. Helpless all over again. “I don’t know what I was doing.”

“Yes you do. You saw I was in a tight spot and you jumped out of that car- you tried to do the thing. They might not be able to see that, but I can. And until you… until you hone it… please just keep one of these on you.” For his own peace of mind, he was asking. You knew.

Yet still, “Why? Are we expecting more crazy people to show up and attack us?”

He stared at you silently for too long a moment. Defeat there in his eyes.

If I can’t always be there…

“Fine.” You said as quickly as you could to make it stop. “How do- how do I charge it?”

“I’m still working on that.” Turning away.

“Oh. Great. So until then I’m supposed to carry- what- ten of them around in my purse?” You weren’t really mad. You weren’t really anything. Which was the worst part. Life was finally getting the better of you. If you could just hang on for a few more days…

He smiled as you came over, putting an arm around you again to pull you close. You would have liked to stay like that forever. “Maybe more like fifty. That should be enough for everyone I’ve supposedly pissed off...”

Before you could tell him to knock it off or ask if he even had that many, you felt the shift, the immediate drop in energy as an exhale shot out of him. All of his weight went to you, even as his hand reached out to try and catch the corner of the work table and slipped, leaving you shouldering his entire body. “Tony-”

Four beeps at the front indicated someone was coming into the lab and you were terrified it was Natalie come to ask you for something- but instead, “Hey- whoa-” Rhodey appeared out of nowhere.

“Please help.”

“The desk over there-” Tony was weakly directing.

Rhodey took his arm over his shoulder, freeing you from the weight although you stood close. “Yeah buddy, alright. Here.”

“The cigar box- it’s Palladium.” The word hurt you unexpectedly, scared all over again as Rhodey sat him down and you pulled one of the cores from the case.

Tony tried a deep breath, reaching underneath his shirt, something you took a silent cue from, dislodging the Arc Reactor and holding it up. The Palladium inside ejected up, a charred mess. “Is that supposed to be smoking?”

“It’s neutron damage from the reactor wall, if you must know.” Somehow Tony had gained back a tiny bit of control now that he was sitting down, sounding a touch more even. But he was still softly panting.

You took the depleted core from him, setting it aside and watched anxiously as he set the new one and then slid the Reactor back up, lodging it back into his chest, smacking it a few times before the light resumed. Something he took a big gulp of air at.

It at least beat sticking your hands in goo to attach wires to plates, you guessed.

“What can I do?” Needing to just do something. Anything.

“Water. Please.”

Even though Rhodey was most likely wise to the both of you, you resisted reaching out to give Tony an affectionate touch, forcing yourself to turn away to go to the lit up mini fridge at the bar. “What are you looking at?” You heard Tony ask.

Returning when Rhodey had apparently done enough staring to answer. “I’m looking at you. Look- you need to get upstairs and clean up this mess.”

“I’m working on it.” Answered almost a little too angrily, not meaning to but you were under a lot of pressure. And Tony… Tony needed to be left alone.

“Not you but- you, too, I guess. You’re both down here playing house while an intern is taking phone calls from news anchors. It’s a disgrace. I put myself on the line for you- you have no idea how soon the National Guard is gonna come rolling up the PCH in tanks to take your suits.” It really didn’t help anything that Rhodey was pissed.

What were you supposed to do? Squaring up, “First of all, Natalie is from legal. If anyone can handle it, she can.” You were very fond of Rhodey. You were very close to Rhodey. But he didn’t understand.

...nor could he, if he didn’t know the truth of it all. But…

“You of all people- I thought you were smarter than this.”

Shock registered briefly on your face and you might have had a lot to say about that to him, had Tony not stood up and put a hand on your shoulder, stepping between the both of you. “Look- I just need you to trust me. Contrary to popular belief, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“Mm hmm.” No one was a winner here. Everyone was frustrated. “What’s that on your neck?”

A chill clipped through you. “It’s road rash.” Tony offered the weak explanation. But that only furthered it. He wanted no one else to know.

“What’s on his neck?” Turning his questioning gaze and commanding presence towards you.

You suddenly felt a sense of deja vu.

Any other time… any other time you would have made things right. But not tonight. Not now. “It’s from the attack in Monaco.” Quiet as you answered.

God. You really were just like him, weren’t you?

Rhodey just shook his head. “So that’s it then. You two are determined to play Bonnie and Clyde and no one else is involved.” Certainly not me anymore. The afterthought hit you harder than you would have liked, the disappointment and upset seeping through you. Reaching out to the desk, you steadied yourself.

Tony finally caught full control of his breathing, taking a long sip of water. He then looked back at Rhodey one last time. “Trust me, alright?”

“We’ll fix the mess.”

Finally Rhodey put his hands up, turning his back on you both, shaking his head. “You’d better.” Just like that he started marching back out of the lab and up the steps.

You were so fixated on watching him go that when Tony grabbed your hand you startled just a little, but then turned yours over to hold on tighter to him. He looked at you softly. “He’ll get over it.”

“I hope so.”

Because right now you had no time to deal with him. ...or the mess he was asking you to clean up. And soon… soon you’d have no time left at all.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Twenty Five #in which the big secret comes out #and we all cry

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the-foxes-fangs · 5 years

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I Wish I Was the Moon (Ikesen Mitsuhide)

A Mitsuhide songfic

Rating: SFW

Pairing: Mitsuhide/MC

Warnings: Some violence, angst

Listen to the inspiration here

Chimney falls and lovers blaze Thought that I was young Now I’ve freezing hands and bloodless veins As numb as I’ve become

He did his best to make it look magical. Or at least, like all of the best tricks he made it look far more effortless than it was, coming and going from Azuchi like autumn snow falling and thawing.

He knelt and held the end of a grimy cord between his teeth as he finished off a knot around a cache of supplies that needed to be hoisted up off the floor of one of his many well hidden way points. He spat it out and felt the particles of dirt on the back of his teeth. He had his own vassals, one or two of whom he even trusted, that he could send to do these petty chores, but he preferred to keep his high cards up his sleeves.

A rusty brown dot on the hem of his sleeve caught his eye and he sighed, loud to his own ears in the pre-dawn quiet of the forest. He preferred to imagine his mind as a library, each shelf separate from the next, information collected and ordered, meticulously curated for maximal affinity and usefulness, and he hadn’t given a damn where anything on those shelves came from or how.

Until he thought of the look in her eyes if she saw it, if she caught the scent of his work on him, of the fear and blood and burned flesh and men who hadn’t yet realized that they were dead.

His hands ached from the damp cold and the cord slid just enough to leave a burn across his palm before he caught it. He finished and stood, stretched and felt the lassitude of too many days with too little sleep.

He leaned against the frame of the door to look at the setting moon just above the tops of the trees as it faded into the sky like sheer silk sliding over skin, and the susurrus of the mountain woods seemed to carry the same sound, like the fall of hair as it tumbled down a naked back. He curled his cold fingers around the burn on his palm and blamed his wandering mind on exhaustion.

It was better to imagine her in the arms of someone who could claim the violence wasn’t in cold blood. He forced himself to think of her that way, burning with desire in the arms of someone with much warmer hands.

He rubbed at the spot on his sleeve, and pushed aside his tiredness and the pins and needles of something waking up that was meant to stay numb, something thawing that was meant to stay chilled through, something dangerous.

Last night I dreamt I had forgotten my name ‘Cause I had sold my soul but awoke just the same I’m so lonely I wish I was the moon tonight

“Mitsuhide.”

He didn’t miss a beat as he grinned at Hideyoshi, pretended that he had been provoking him instead of watching a sliver of the moon through the window of the banquet hall. The syllables of his own name barely registered sometimes, it was one of so many and it felt no more like home than any of the others he wore.

“Yes, mother.” He answered, and curled his lip up just enough to add a sting to the insult.

“Oh if only, then I could at least give you a slap upside the head for being mouthy,” Hideyoshi muttered, adding “I asked where you went this time.” He had a flush creeping up his throat from the drink, and his fist was clenched tightly on his knee, broad shoulders still perfectly straight no matter how deeply he got into his cups.

“As a matter of fact, I had a rather interesting meeting with-” Mitsuhide cut himself off deliberately and made a show of looking at her as she came in carrying a fresh bottle, laughing at something Masamune was saying. Her hair gleamed in the lamplight as she came toward them.

“Dear girl,” he said and motioned to her, looking through her now, looking at the curve of the moon through the window over her shoulder, “Hideyoshi was just wondering when you were going to be back, I practically had to shoot him to keep him from sending a search party to the cellar.”

He stood smoothly as she sat, and ignored the flicker of frustration in her eyes as he nudged her closer to an even more flushed Hideyoshi and sidled away, mouthing polite excuses as he went.

He stopped in the dappled shadows on the path between the castle and his manor, and tried to feel the satisfaction of a successful scheme, but the sound of distant music seemed to make the air around him hard in its silence, and the golden glow of lamplight through the windows made the moonlight cold and clear, sharp where it fell across his face.

God blessed me, I’m a free man With no place free to go I’m paralyzed and collared-tight No pills for what I fear.

He hadn’t been him in a week when he saw them walking together from the shadows of a tea-house door. They were a good a match, he told himself, bright and generous and absurdly kind-hearted.

The afternoon light was honey golden as they walked, and he ignored the feeling that ran from his chest to his gut at the sight of Hideyoshi ruffling her hair affectionately. He chose not to give it a name, not to give it a life. Lying came so easily when you practiced lying to yourself.

The prospect of facing mountains of paperwork at home exhausted him, the quiet alley and the faded blue sky exhausted him, the feel of his rifle on his hip seemed heavier than it had before as he watched them turn out of view. He stood like that until he felt the chill of a lengthening shadow from the awning and began to walk in the opposite direction by force of will.

He pulled his scarf away from his throat as if that would loosen the tightness in his throat, and was grateful that he hadn’t chosen to wear a mask of sincerity which he knew would be much harder to feign than detached amusement when they should next meet.

She came with some documents the next evening, and he told himself it was only natural to check on the progress of his objective as he made them tea.

“Our little seamstress seems to be laying siege to the castle of devotion around Hideyoshi” he said as he searched her eyes for confirmation behind what he assumed would be flustered denials.

“A seamstress, a mouse, now a siege engine?” She shot back with an amused snort, and darted her eyes away from his.

“One has to be flexible in these trying times. Is your blockade a success?”

“I’m no strategist, you know that better than anyone.” She answered and he hid how his breathe caught at the look of frustration and longing in her eyes when she spoke.

She studied him and he studied her in a beat of silence that felt like a chasm.

He had memorized her face, her expressions, the curve of her brow, the cant of her shoulders and the sweep of her throat. That look was just one more, he told himself as he hoped that the noise of him sipping tea would cover the cavalry din of his heartbeat.

How will you know if you’ve found me at last ‘Cause I’ll be the one, be the one, be the one With my heart in my lap I’m so tired I wish I was the moon tonight

The full moon had vanished into the snowy night, as his horse stumbled and slipped down the path toward Azuchi. But the snowfall was suffused with enough light to keep riding. It was too cold to stop and he could nearly see the white wisps of heat rising from where blood soaked through his hastily bandaged shoulder and arm.

It had been too hasty of a retreat to assess the full damage done by some bastard’s shortsword, but it didn’t feel too deep. The cold slowed the bleeding well enough for the moment, and he fought the sluggish feeling that began to set in as he squinted toward the faint glow of the castle town.

He held the reins slack in his injured hand and gripped the pommel of his saddle with whatever strength wasn’t holding him up.

He drifted up above his body, as if the snow was a counterweight that pulled him higher and higher as it swirled gently around him, so high he could finally no longer see himself, or the horse, or the castle, so high that the lake looked as small as a silver coin and finally as dot of dew.

It was clean and sharp and cold up here, and he struggled to remember what it was that he was so worried about doing down below as he carried on drifting upward, swallowed by a clear brightness until he felt his back slam hard into what he could only assume was the moon, since the ground was nowhere to be seen. He found himself laughing at the thought that he had floated all the way to the moon. He’d have to tell her that it was very cold and white and that you couldn’t feel your body at all up there. She was the only person who would believe him, in spite of his constant lies, he knew she would believe him just this one time.

He could feel his pulse in one hand, though. It was hot and painful as it throbbed where something pulled insistently.

He struggled to lift his frost covered lashes and focus on her as she wrenched his hand in both of hers. They were warm, even hot and he gave her a lopsided grin.

“Of course you’d manage to be warm up here.”

She said something but it was muffled. Her cheeks were red with cold but the rest of her face seemed unusually pale. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden intrusion of bright yellow and heard another muffled voice, and then another, until he stopped trying to work out who was speaking. He felt a searing pain and gasped at the sudden sense of falling back down, nauseating and too fast, before he was swallowed by the dark.

The noise of footsteps in the hallway roused him. He was bleary eyed, but the edge of the blanket told him that he’d been carried to his own bed. He didn’t try to move, but he heard the rustle of blankets and felt a sudden absence as someone moved away from him.

“You’re awake.” She said, and he felt the tickle of her breath close to the back of his neck.

“Am I?” he asked hoarsely.

“You were so cold, we- I was worried, so-” she swallowed the rest of her thought nervously and he was suddenly keenly aware of her hand clutching the back of his robe, of her legs tucked into his, of the warmth of her body and the burn and ache of his wounds.

“So you crawled into bed with me? How bold.” He croaked out, and waited for her to move away.

She settled closer to him, gentle and careful. “Not the way I’d imagined it, but yes, I finally managed to crawl into bed with you.” She answered, smoothly.

He couldn’t think of a thing to say to that. He was so tired and she was so close and so warm.

“No smart remark? I’m going to have to mark the date I made you shut up.” She said, and her voice grew soft as she added “I’m glad you made it back, Mitsuhide.”

“I am too.” Too close to saying too much.

She seemed on the verge of speech for a moment, but he felt the soft brush of a kiss on the back of his neck instead.

He promised himself that he would untangle it all when his head wasn’t swimming with fatigue and she wasn’t so near. He allowed himself to believe his own lies as she found his uninjured hand and twined their fingers together.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen mitsuhide #ikemen sengoku mitsuhide #fanfic #my fic #akechi mitsuhide #cybird otome #angsty ridiculousness #don't try to be selfless mitsuhide it doesn't suit you #ikemen mitsuhide

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gurguliare · 5 years

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Dumb ageswap preview since today is a no self-restraint day

There was a stray cat who frequented the convenience store. Actually there were several, but this one came very regularly at or around dawn, because the cashier who worked nights put out milk near the end of his shift. The first time Keiji saw it happen, he was fascinated, not by the cashier with his oversized T-shirt and apron but by the cat, who was dead. He wanted to know more.

Regular breakfasts of milk and attention soon gave the stray a bit of solidity. Not enough grow back flesh and bone, but enough that—on the darkest winter days, when the sun stayed down and simmered through the morning—the cat just looked like a cat, though a cat with holes for eyes. It got to the point where even an ordinary person would be able to tell that it was there, if only they knew what to look for. Keiji lost interest, not wanting to be caught squinting at a ghost when he should have been on his way to campus. But he thought about it. Somehow it always came before the living strays arrived, and drank without lowering the level of the milk… but the milk grew duller, more blue-white, and lost its smell. The other strays, when they came, were getting the dregs.

Most food, spirits couldn’t enjoy. In their dead mouths it turned to ashes. Offerings were an exception, but could a bowl of milk be an offering? If set out with the correct intent, perhaps. Or prayed over beforehand. It was hard to imagine the night manager praying.

Who was the night manager? He looked boring. He had a sloping bowl-cut, so long it covered his eyebrows and the tips of his ears. The grooves under his eyes shrank his eyes until his face was mostly frown and nostril. Not really a frown—a nonexpression gravity had sagged. He knelt like someone with bad knees, but he couldn’t be old, with that unwashed baby face. If Keiji closed his eyes and concentrated briefly, the cashier appeared as a person-shaped gap in a thick field of color. Most things, viewed in this way, bulged with pockets of spiritual energy, like food that looked delicious but could be halved to show the spotty mold. Even a powerless person had their life, that grew through their body in veins. The cashier was alive, but his life-force gave off neither energy nor colored light—Keiji had to hold open his mind’s senses to detect it, a dark river of “something” concealed in nothing, a life-river spilling downward so slowly it was easy to suppose that he had made some mistake: that the nothing flowed upward, instead.

It would have been too conspicuous to stand in front of the convenient store with his eyes shut, especially after the cashier went back inside. So he pretended to pace. After a couple of passes he walked into a stop sign.

“Oi, Mogami,” said a voice right behind him. “Are you sick?”

He turned slowly, in part because turning made his head swim. At the last minute he also remembered to open his eyes. Vice President Reigen Arataka, terror of blowoff clubs, stood with arms folded and so close behind that Keiji almost clotheslined him. Or would have done, if Keiji had been more like Reigen—waving his hands around at the start of every speech.

Arataka took a prim step back and didn’t relax his hold on his own elbows. “You look sick,” he accused.

“I’m not,” said Keiji pleasantly. “I’m just late. I’m afraid I’m letting down you and the president.”

“Not much to let down. You’re always late.”

“I’m sorry,” said Keiji, staring at his smeary storefront reflection with what he hoped was a sincerely mournful air. Behind the glass, the cashier was putting out new stock. “I didn’t think my student council duties would interfere this much with my preferred sleep habits.”

“That’s a real shame.” No one ever sounded less threatening than Arataka imitating a gangster, or perhaps the rough-cut hero of the movie who drove off the gangsters at the end. He was the sort of person who did it to put people at ease, raising his eyebrows and sneering to shake a laugh out of his victims. “Let’s walk together. I’ll make your excuses, if you like. ‘Mr. President, a thousand apologies. I got lost between the convenience store and the convenience store—’”

“That’s right”—Keiji mimed surprise—“you’re late too, aren’t you?”

Arataka gave him the uneven smile that Keiji often saw in friendly upperclassmen. Something about his sense of humor soured them after a while, though they liked his sarcastic deference. After all, it was still deference.

The president didn’t show up. Keiji enjoyed listening to Arataka fudge the agenda, though.

In homeroom, Ms. Kurata showed an unusual appetite for combat, striding jerkily to and fro and barking questions at the dozers in the front. The bands of dim light from the blinds made their way floating up her jacket, higher but less sharp every time she passed the windows, like she was being batted between a pair of ghostly claws. It was hard to say what had her so worked up. Kurata was an inconsistent teacher; funny and harsh when the subject didn’t interest her, but barely comprehensible when it did. Keiji didn’t mind either way. He took diligent notes and made copies in the time left over, which could sometimes be sold, and he watched the clock for sudden movements. Sometimes he lost time, but when that happened his hand usually had the decency to go on writing without him.

At lunch, he happened to see her outside, talking on the phone. “Eh, Mob, you’ll never guess… I woke you up? Sorry, sorry, forgot you’re back on the graveyard shift. Well, but you’re up now, right?”

“I saw ‘that’ spirit again. Oh, come on, you know what I’m talking about. That spirit! The one I can see! With the blushy face?”

“What do you mean, I should call your brother? You’re the esper, aren’t you? OK, OK, but I don’t even know the name of his agency—”

She dropped her phone in her bag and shook out her fingers as if it had burned her. “‘Spirits and Such’?” she said to herself, and gave a low chuckle. “Straight-laced as ever, Ricchan.”

“Hello,” said Keiji politely.

Kurata jumped and dipped forward like a drawbridge, arms akimbo. He had been standing in front of her for almost a minute; it wasn’t his fault she didn’t pay attention. “Mogami?” She straightened again and tightened her scarf self-importantly. “You weren’t eavesdropping, were you?”

“No, but I couldn’t help but overhear you discussing something that might impact the safety of the school. As a student council member…”

“Hey, that’s too bold, isn’t it? Could it be you’re going to blackmail me? We’ve got another two years together, sonny. I heard what your president did to Mr. Koga.” But she was smiling, cheek twitching a little, like she couldn’t select between amusement and real happiness that someone had heard her. Clearly she had seen something. She sat on a low ceramic wall and patted for him to join her. “Do you believe in the existence of the paranormal?” She had a deep voice which deepened especially for heartfelt performances—in the classroom, almost always heartfelt disappointment.

“Maybe,” said Keiji. “It depends. I can’t rule it out, since I’m not old enough to have really experienced such things. Does teacher believe?”

“You suckup.” She propped her chin on her interlaced fingers and sighed so hard it made her hair flip up. “I used to. I really used to, it was practically all I thought about at your age. I thought I was going to find aliens.”

“….UFO?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. Extraterrestrials are still a statistical near-certainty, you know. Fermi’s paradox, the Drake equation… Humanity’s brightest minds see beyond this low horizon!”

“I might have to finish eating lunch now, Ms. Kurata.”

“No, wait. I’m aware that you’re not interested in aliens. You heard me mention a spirit, right? Well, it’s true. Aliens might still give our species the cold shoulder, but evil spirits certainly don’t. This one—” She lowered her voice. “I first saw him over fifteen years ago. He’s green and he glistens, like snot. I don’t remember his name, but… Mogami, is it true you sold curses to other students in elementary school? Are you a spiritualist?”

“Not true at all,” Keiji said. “I sold charms. They weren’t effective, though. If I have any spiritual powers, I’m below average.”

“I didn’t see the spirit on campus,” she mused, leaning her face to one side in its cradle of fingers, which was slightly disturbing. “So it’s no concern of the student council.” Suddenly her hands sprang apart to wriggle in mid-air. “I tell you what. I give you details, and you make me a protection charm.”

“No, but you can have it for ¥1000.”

Tome whistled and put her hands away. “Cheap!”

#broccoli looms in the backdrop of every scene but it hasn't been mentioned yet bc not relevant to keiji's journey #mp100

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amourphousblob · 5 years

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my faves - January 2019

everyone but you - the young veins

they just re-released take a vacation, and as someone who really loves the young veins that makes me VERY EXCITED because they haven’t put out much in recent years and it'll be interesting to see if they have a comeback. as for this song, it was always a standout on the album for me. I don’t know what about it but oh my it made me emotional. it was so simple and something about the lyrics felt so dreamy and hopeless at the same time, like clinging onto the last bit of dreaminess to keep you sane because you miss someone so much.

she - dodie

unrequited lesbian crush ANTHEM, we stan dodie. this song has such a sweet, pure, and innocent tone that I think is so nice and fits so well with the subject matter. as a person who likes girls and used to identify as one this song is very near and dear to me, it really hits home.

Nancy drew - sløtface

I went through a major rock/punk phase a few years back, but I actually only recently found out about sløtface. they sound like if Paramore hadn't gone pop mixed with some of pierce the veil’s more melodic tracks and oh my goody goody goodness I'm obsessed. with this song in particular, its fairly chill for a pop punk until they hit that chorus, and the first time I heard this hook I automatically was hit by a mixture of “ HELL FUCKIN YEAH “ and hardcore nostalgia and this is just such a good song

góda tungl ( good moon ) - samaris

so this one is a bit of a change from the others. it’s Icelandic, and what I find really interesting about it is that it’s traditional Icelandic poetry from many years ago, just sung with a very minimalistic drone-ish beat ( kinda like eluvium or startle the heavens just faster and with words ??? ). it’s so unique and I just love it so much. just ,,,, go listen to all of the samaris self titled album its so worth 40 minutes of your time.

belly of the beat - grimes

I wasn’t 100% sold on this song at first but it’s quickly become one of my favorites. I love how weirdly dark it gets at “ every body dies we cut out their eyes and dace like angels do “ and how soulful she sounds at “ in the belly of the beat “ and it just overall has this amazing dreamy quality that puts me in a trance the whole time im listening

a pearl - Mitski

at the beginning of the song everything is so stripped and then she hits “ I fell in love with a WARRRR” and everything grows so much and turns into this big semi jazzy semi rock Mitski fiasco and honestly im living for it

sincerity is scary - the 1975

when this album first came out I died inside and it was all I listened to for a solid 2 weeks. this song is just ,,,, so rich and well done and the GODDAMN HIHATS I doubt many non music geek people would notice this but the hi-hats are flipping between two patterns and its damn near impossible to count. every time I hear the song im automatically sucked in the the 1975′s weird mix of pop, gospel, and Matty Healy’s weirdness

Work Song - Hozier

this song sounds so meaningful and rich, and as someone who lives in a constant state of existential crisis the fact it’s about dying in peace really strikes a chord. the video for this song is so beautiful and fits so well. this song really isnt high energy and there’s very little buildup to the chorus, but even so everything that is there feels so purposeful that it becomes even more powerful.

woman - Harry styles

this song was my favorite song ( until it was dethroned by my queen Maggie rogers ) and honestly I just love it so much. the opening piano gliss travels from one ear to another and then everything comes crashing down and then on top of that harry is just singin and having a grand ol time and then we get to the first verse and everything strips down and then the BASSLINE comes in and I die inside because I love it so much.

the knife - Maggie rogers

oh my god where do I start. the BASSLINE in the begging, Maggie really out here doing THAT. it so groovy and if you don’t at least bob your head when you hear that you’re a fucking robot and I dont trust you. whenever I hear this chorus its impossible for me to stand still, like its physically painful. it builds with the distorted voice bit and then the bass drops out for most of it and tis just Maggie with these incredibly intricate inner voices that manage to carry it and keep it full without a real bass and OH MY GOSH I just love this song so much.

#mitski #hozier #dodie #the young veins #slotface #the 1975 #grimes #smaris #harry styles #Maggie rogers #Zoe.txt

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boonies · 6 years

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802 reboots and there's only one thing Eleanor wants more than redemption. Eleanor/Chidi; PG-13; 2,200 words.

"You're like goldfish I let loose in a great big ocean," Michael complains tiredly, Eleanor 13 sitting before him with a defiant scowl, "but you just keep—but you just keep swimming in a circle." "Fun fact, Michael," Janet 13.5 lectures over his shoulder, producing a deformed fish tank, "goldfish are strictly freshwater fish." Michael gives the fish tank a bleary-eyed look. "It's just," he starts again, resigned, scrubbing at his stubble, focusing on a distressed Chidi 13 instead, "I gave you a literal eternity to do literally anything you want, and what do you keep doing." "Each other," Janet cuts in helpfully. Michael clicks the button. * Sleepy, Eleanor 16 sighs into the table, cheek pressed to a coffee-stained essay, sprawled over a scattering of dogeared books, eyes focused on Chidi's broad back. "Steven Seagal." Chidi 16 pauses to process. "Oh," he corrects her, patient, offended, secretly flattered, tapping a stick of chalk to the blackboard, "Senegal." "Steven Senegal," she nods wisely. * "You've been my own personal GPS," Eleanor 75 confides with an earnest, desperate grin, fingers digging into his arms, "recalibrating me no matter how many wrong turns I chose to take—" "Ironic," Chidi 75 mutters under his breath, shoulders stiff, eyes averted, "considering my directional insanity—" "—which is how I know The Good Place isn't really a place," Eleanor argues, undeterred, turning her face to glare at Michael with a perfectly confident smirk, "it's a person." "No," Michael frowns, head tilted in consideration, "no, it's definitely a place—" "No, it's definitely Chidi," Eleanor huffs with unholy determination, "I finally figured it all o—" Sighing, Michael snaps his fingers.

* Eleanor 121 settles on the outskirts of a deserted kebab neighborhood. "You're our first resident or something," Michael tells her and books it. She spends two weeks alone. "Janet," she sighs, bored, lifeless, looking up from her pillow when Janet dutifully pops in. "Can you get me a turtle. I kinda really need a turtle right now." One fresh turtle takes a heavy hesitant step atop her skewer-cluttered nightstand. "Janet," Eleanor calls again. "Can you get me tiny glasses to put on the turtle." Janet gets her tiny glasses to put on the turtle. "Hey, Janet," Eleanor asks, lost, "why the fork am I doing this." Janet offers her a cheerful, "Unclear." * "Lemme try... Perfect Credit Score," Eleanor 204 tells the froyo dude, scanning the menu, "And Glasses here's gonna have... how's New Socks sound?" Visibly pleased, Chidi 204 shuffles closer. * "—she lives to vex me," Chidi 321 tells Tahani 321 with a long-suffering, impatient huff, stranded in her greenhouse during a daily shrimp air raid. "Technically, buddy," Eleanor 321 defends, almost fondly, crouched behind a large fern, "we're kinda dead." "This is what I mean!" Chidi points out, incredulous, adjusting his glasses. "I mean," Eleanor shrugs, tugging at one of his belt loops to scoot closer as a giant shrimp flies overhead, "I could maybe be responsible for our shrimp kamikaze friends or I might not be, is this really the hill you wanna die on, man." "As you pointed out, Eleanor," Chidi argues hotly, fixated on the insistent fingers wrapped around his belt loop, "I'm already dead." "This is precisely," Tahani snaps, the brim of her stupidly large hat shielding her stupidly beautiful face, "why I've banned you both from seeking shelter on these premises—I shan't allow myself to become a personal mediator again like I felt obligated to when my good friends, Ben and Jennifer and Jennifer—" A severed shrimp carapace crashes through the greenhouse, nicking her hat. "Out." * "Huh," Eleanor 401 nods to herself, realization dawning, "you and me—I guess we're technically illegal immigrants." Jason 401 cocks his head at the Xbox. "That's racist." Eleanor ignores him, crossing her arms and sinking deeper into the couch. "I smuggled myself into forking heaven." She pauses for a beat. "Wow, this has gotta be the worst thing I've ever—nope. Sold bags of Zayn's breath at two One Direction concerts." Unconcerned, Jason squints at her, controller held loosely in his palms, lollipop dangling from his mouth. "If I had to pick one direction I guess I'd pick south. No, left. No, up—" "We need to turn ourselves in." "Pass." "Listen," Eleanor starts, "Chidi would say it's our moral imperative to—" "Noooo," Jason whines loudly. "Chidi would say," Eleanor persists, then pauses. "Oh." * "Look," Eleanor 599 starts the negotiations, clasping Chidi's clammy hands between hers, "you should come with me to Mindy's. Because..." she takes a shaky breath, nape and collarbones itchy, "because you're the Bonnie to my Clyde, Chidi, the Karl to my Hans Gruber, the Kronk to my Yzma—" "I... " Chidi 599 manages, traumatized, "I don't even know where to start, Eleanor, you understand that all of these are bad guys, please tell me you understand, it's very important to me that you understand—" "Chidi, I only understand that you have to come with me," Eleanor tells him, soft, sincere, scared. "It's important somehow." Chidi watches her for a moment. "Okay." * "Everyone else is forking," Eleanor 666 announces casually, breezing into the guest room, mouth full of popcorn shrimp, "so we should, too, you know, probably." "Eleanor," Chidi 666 bristles, flustered, uncomfortable, visibly struggling to keep his composure and his bookmark in place, "if everyone else jumped off a building, should we?" "Bro," she points out, kinda smug, kinda shy, gesturing at the book in his lap, "we literally just finished a chapter on how conformity makes us human." "Oh, of course," he complains, nervously adjusting his glasses, "now you pay attention to my lessons. Wait. You're paying attention to my lessons, Eleanor, that's—sadly—the proudest I've been—" "Cool," she says, tossing her bucket of popcorn shrimp aside, "but are you turned on." Chidi stares. "Weirdly," he blinks, "yes." * "Perhaps," Michael says into his recorder, perched precariously atop his windowsill, only peripherally aware of Eleanor 704, "next time I could maybe tinker with the bluetooth settings—" "Wait," Chidi 704 says, gripping his chair, glasses slipping down his nose, "next time?" "Oh, right," Michael summarizes flippantly, "yeah. Okay. So we've been through some version of this like 704 times." Unenthusiastic, he sticks his hands up in surrender. "Surprise. I'm a bad guy and so are you. Let's see, what am I missing—ah, yes." He spares them an accusatory glance. "I had to reboot you jerks, like, every couple of months." "Wait—wait, what—704 reboots?" Chidi asks, horrified, vein in his forehead pulsing. "No, what—at an average of two months per cycle," he turns to Eleanor, eyes wide, left shoe tapping restlessly, "that's... 117 years." Eleanor waves him off with a dismissive scoff, "That can't be right but I don't know enough about math to dispute it." She pauses for a beat. "Why do I know that word." Michael arranges his face into a desperate sort of condescension, thumb poised over the clicker. "Character development." * "The bad place must be frozen over," Eleanor 782 tells Nightmare George Washington, "because I definitely think I have the hots for a nerd. Like. I'm not super into him or anything." The clown painting stares back. "Fine," Eleanor concedes, "I might be super into him." She turns. "Tahani, at the risk of failing Bechdel, what do you think." Tahani 782 looks up from a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, criminally long legs crossed at the ankle, hair swept to the side like a sexy mermaid. "I think dedicating an entire article to snacks is a neoteric atrocity. In this economy?" Eleanor narrows her eyes. "About feelings, Tahani. These terrible things I'm apparently having." Tahani rises with elegance, the hem of her dress sweeping down her perfect calves. "Eleanor, I must, as the Floridians say," she lectures airily, patting Eleanor's shoulder, "respectfully stay in my lane." "Fine," Eleanor complains, agitated, unnerved, defensive, "fine, I'll just figure out feelings and how to "have" them on my own—" "Eleanor," Tahani points out, placing one of Chidi's tabbed books in Eleanor's hands. "Not quite on your own." * "We don't belong here," Eleanor 800 murmurs lazily, cheek smushed against a couch cushion, ripped bag of chips cradled in her arms. Squatting by his Playstation, monk robes caught on a stack of games, Jason 800 nods sagely. "Ya, we musta used some legit cheat codes, dog." Expression blank, Eleanor watches him blow a peace kiss at the ceiling. "Dude, we have to leave." Jason gives her a scandalized pout. "Before we get Chidi in trouble," Eleanor clarifies, coaxing, "before we get Tahani in trouble." Petulantly, Jason sprawls on the floor. "I don't wanna leave. I like it here. I like how the pizza is always deep dish and how the Jaguars air on every channel and how my budhole—" "It's the right thing to do," Eleanor eulogizes. "You and me, we gotta do what's best for Chidi and Tahani." "Noo, homie," Jason sits up, slapping the rug, "what about what's best for us, huh." Eleanor nuzzles the bag of chips. "What is best for us, Jason." "I dunno," Jason admits, looking constipated, "but I do know Tahani makes me smarter and Chidi makes you gooder, so." Eleanor opens her mouth to protest, then bites down on a chip with an affectionate, lopsided smile. "He does make me gooder." * Eleanor 802 says, "Do you think it's weird." Chidi 802 says, "Always and everything, yes, but what specifically?" "That Michael deep-fried our brains 801 times and I still just..." she gives him a sideways glance, sitting by the kitchen counter, VCR queued up. "Found you." Chidi shifts atop the stool, brows knitted, fingers anxiously clawing at his knobby knees. "Perhaps, mathematically, it was mostly inevitable, since there were only four—" "I have to show you something," Eleanor interrupts, thumb paused over the play button. "Do you wanna see? It could, you know. Totally change everything, be a total plot twist, a jumping of the shark, maybe." Pained, Chidi offers her a tiny indecisive wheeze. "Well," he starts eventually, wary but focused, "according to Thomas Gray, ignorance is bliss. But also, uh, there's Francis Bacon, who argued that knowledge is power—" "I'm not gonna lie, Chidi," Eleanor shrugs one shoulder, palm upturned. "Imma side with food, not colors." Chidi pauses, a brief hint of surprised admiration softening his features. Eleanor's heart catches in her chest. "So can I show you." "Yeah." * "Hey, quick question," Chidi says on the train, fragments of the neighborhood dismantling behind them, "and I feel like I need to qualify it with a—" "Chidi." "Right, sorry," he says, pressed to her side, studiously examining his knuckles. "I've been thinking a lot lately—" "Shocker." "—and I think—feel—think I should mention a principle we didn't have time to cover in class," he rambles, adorably sweaty, "one that closely relates to skepticism, in which we have to assume that because we can only experience our own mind, every bit of knowledge outside of it is unsure and unreal—" "Solipsism," Eleanor nods politely. Chidi pauses, almost awed, lips parted, eyebrows raised. "What," Eleanor offers defensively. "I read ahead." "Oooh," Michael calls from the back, "that's how she got you in Reboot 413." Thoughtful, Chidi turns to meet her eyes. "Wait, so you know about solipsism but not where Senegal is?" "Chidi," Eleanor whines, "I'm from Arizona. We get our maps from... 1886. Countries like Africa—" "Again, Africa is not a c—" "Haven't we left The Bad Place?" Tahani demands sternly, then demurs, "I mean. Do carry on..." Awkwardly, Chidi squares his shoulders. "It's just that, hypothetically, what if none of this is real." "The probability of that is absolutely high," Janet agrees. "Oh, my stomach," Chidi groans, then refocuses. "If none of this is real, then none of the reboots, including the one where..." he trails off guiltily, "Cannonball Run II happened, happened." "Oh no, Burt Reynolds doesn't win the race?" Jason asks, noticeably upset. Eleanor ignores him, gently slipping her hand in Chidi's. "Look. What matters to me is that none of the reboots erased what I care about." She hesitates, mumbling, "You." "Oh, dang," Jason hoots, "Chidi's a virus." Five pairs of eyes laser in on him. "Yea, Chidi's like this one virus Pillboi got that one time we tried to download Party in the USA on LimeWire but it was actually a," he crooks his fingers at an angle, aghast, "cartoon porn, yo." He nods in remembrance, somber. "He never could get rid of it after that." "Are you saying, Jason, in your... graciously simple manner," Tahani translates delicately, "you believe we are inside a computer simulation." Jason purses his lips, thinking. "Okay... yeah?" "Oh," Chidi says, seeking guidance from the train's ceiling, "that wasn't helpful at all, Eleanor." Eleanor knocks his knee with hers, smiling brightly, hand still in Chidi's. "It was for me." Incredulous, Chidi observes her for a moment. "How." Eleanor's smile grows. "I'm cool with a computer simulation or eternal damnation or even Alabama," she tells him with a kind of unshakeable trust. "As long as I'm stuck with you."

#the good place #eleanor shellstrop #chidi anagonye #♪ idk the tags for this ♫#eleanor x chidi

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